The Box

 He was cleaning the garage, something he'd wanted to do for a long time, when he came across a dusty box on a top shelf. What do we have here? He asked himself. He carefully got it down on level ground and looked at it while he caught his breath. There were stickers from various locations he must have gone to when he was young, like a circus sticker and some from the zoo. There were a lot of stickers from national parks and tourist traps like the giant ice cream cone in Michigan, and that big ball of string people talked about. There was crime tape wrapped around the box. I didn't want anyone peeking, he mumbled. He got the pocket knife his dad gave him out of his pocket and slowly cut the tape to look inside.

There were several things wrapped in newspaper, including his train collection, which he had gotten for Christmas when he was eight years old. Wow, he said out loud. It looks brand new after hiding away for over sixty-five years. The next thing he found was an old tin pencil box with some number two pencils, all sharpened and ready to write. The tin box had Mickey Mouse stickers all over it, bringing a smile to his weathered face. His memories were overloaded as he took item after item out of the old box, each bringing him back to his youth. His baseball glove, A Tonka toy truck that brought him hours of fun digging up the backyard, to his mom's dislike. A burlap bag filled with his marble collection and a blue yo-yo. There were ten green plastic army soldiers and the book Moby Dick. Lastly, his stuffed monkey was just a toy, of course, that went everywhere with him, especially to bed. He learned later in life his mom tried to substitute it for a new one that almost looked identical, but he wouldn't be fooled and gave it back to her. She barely caught the garbage truck to retrieve his best friend. The sun was setting as he put everything back in the box, headed for the house carrying the book Moby Dick and playing walk the dog with his yo-yo.

Mike 2024