Yesterday I found out my child told their therapist they used to live in a cardboard box.
I burst out laughing!
This child has been through a lot. But, thankfully, not living in a cardboard box. Turns out, they’ve always wished they could live in a box. Who knew?
When I was little, I wished (and prayed hard!) for a life full of adventures. I also wished for red hair and freckles.
I remember sitting in the back seat of our station wagon with my friend, Kathy, when I was pretty young. She asked how I would describe myself to someone who’d never seen me. I’ll never forget my mom’s shocked look in the rear view mirror when I said, “I’d say I had red hair and freckles.”
I finally got around to dying my hair red, gave up on the freckles, and wonder what the heck I was thinking about the adventures.
No- actually- I know exactly what I was thinking. I’d read somewhere about some famous author who’d been kidnapped as a child. I assumed that in order to write about adventures, you had to have experienced them. I knew I wanted to be a writer, and figured the only way to get there was to have a life full of wild and crazy “adventures.” Years later I read Louis L’Amour’s autobiography. He actually did experience many of the things he wrote about. One line jumped off the page at me.
I should have read that a lot earlier.
Dear child of mine, I hope you never “get” to live in a cardboard box. =)