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| | | | last night for some reason I dreamed about my childhood, I think my father was trying to teach me a lesson anyway
My father used to save every shoebox we got and with 4 kids that was alot of shoeboxes. each year we would get our new shoes, before school and I can remember my mother reminding us to save the boxes.
you see my father was a bit of an organizer and he would use those boxes all placed on hand built shelves to organize things, a coat of paint on the front and then a marker discription, thats where the magic came in, Indian pottery, petrafied wood, foriegn money, sulfer rocks, pine cones, turtle shells all kinds of wierd and wonderful titles in his elementry school print would cover the fronts of those boxes, and many many hours were spent exploring those boxes and the memories of how we came to them, remembering the cross country trip and the pottery field we got the shards from, the petrified wood from outside that national park, each one of those shoe boxes held a part of our families adventures, and something I was exposed to through my fathers efforts.
over time I played with them less and less, being "to grown up for that stuff" but now looking back I can still remember many of those boxes I know exactly what was in them and the memories, the funny thing is, I can't for the life of me remember a single pair of shoes of my childhood,
I think thats the lession my father was trying to teach me in that dream, that the things we spend money on are just to provide a place for the memories we will put inside,
took my son to the museum today, looking at dinasours for about 3 hours, we got a book, and some dinasours, and then went shoe shoping, he really didn't need the shoes. |
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| | | | that was a very nice post and what a neat way to cherish memories. 
He is my light, my soul, my one love now and forever. |
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