Part of my childhood is in a plastic tub collecting dust in the dark corners of my basement. The unfinished depths that holds up my house also hold all my memories. Cascading photos of birthday cakes to the face, awkward face shots during sports, and baby pictures as far as the eyes can see. I would only consider my mother a hoarder if one of the symptoms involved child memorabilia, because she has an uncomfortable sum of plastic tubs full of my old uniforms and clothes. My sweet mother holds onto anything that will remind her of her once little boys. The tub that I always smile at is overflowed with shattered remains of mostly Star Wars and knight structures. Building the Lego creations with me always revealed my father’s inner child. I see that same inner child in me these days when I pass the toy sections of stores. Where was that when I was ten?
I don’t believe that my imagination has fully eluded me in my early twenties. I can still create stories in my mind of situations and places that have not been given a home; other than on word documents or notes on my phone. I feel as though the older I become more and more dust is collected on that plastic tub and my imagination is suppressed further. I wish to return to the days when I could spend hours as an architect of my own mismatched world. Where knights and Jedi could coexist, and the plastic heroes would overcome any feat I built against them. I would play out scenarios in my head of the figurines coming to life once I left the room. Very Pixar..ish I know, but that was always my favorite storyline to play out. Shhh Chase is coming back in the room.
What changed? Time? Me? I am still fascinated by all the things that I loved as a kid; they’re just viewed as plots and story boards to me now I guess. I haven’t lost my imagination, I just decided to let my pieces live on beneath my house while I’m far from home. It’s been a while since we’ve had to hide from Chase. One day I hope my future offspring sees that same inner child that I once saw in my father. The pure joy to see their creativity flourish with each piece. Maybe next time I am home I will visit my small companions and build them a shelter once more. My head wanders still, full of scenarios and pieces that I want to put together for the enjoyment of others. But I will never forget the first storyline where my mini men protected the House of Rogers. Now spending their days collecting dust.