The other day a new piece of lab equipment arrived and it was unpacked. Yes Yes it was a great piece of shiny new equipment, but it was not the machinery that inspired me.
It was the big brown cardboard box that it came in. I slid it along the floor and out to the hallway for recycling pickup. But I thought of younger days when a great big cardboard box and maybe some crayons was all you needed for a good time.
My best friend and I decorated the inside and outside of a big refrigerator box and we set it up in her basement. Hours of fun insued.
I remember when crawling into small spaces was the best expereince around. I tried to crawl into the cabinet where the canned goods were and spent quite some time hiding in various closets, under beds and even behind furniture as a kid.
Maybe its just me and my escapist tendencies, but a small space within a space was so much damn fun. A tent in the living room or a fort made from pillows and sheets and a few chairs (one that my brother thoughtfully connected a tube from the air conditioner to, so I had central air in my small haven) was always a great thing. Even today when people are packing a car full of belongings to move or to go somewhere, I never mind slipping into the seat all tucked away. It feels safe, although it is probably not. And I always take the corner seat in a restaurant.
Again, on the brink of so many grown up decisions, I long for a box to spend some time in, sniffing in the carboard air, while the thin corrugated walls sway and shift but serve to protect me unconditionally from the rest of the big bad world.