Of memories and boxes

On Valentine's night I watched Amelie. Thought that was a fitting movie for the evening, and romantic without being overly gooey or making me want to throw things. And as usual, it made me think. This time it was about the little metal box that Amelie found in the floorboards and later returned to Breteaudeau with his childhood treasures. And it made me think - does everyone have a box like that? And what would end up in it?

I did have a box like that, and possibly still do somewhere in my parents basement. It's a carved wooden box with some sort of painting on top, and when I was younger I pretended that it was some sort of puzzle box that you had to have a secret code to get into. Most of what it held was old hair ribbons from the first time that I had long hair (up until I was in the fifth grade.) Later I think it held my vain attempts at song lyrics, letters from my pen pal in Canada, and my stupid unsent love letters to the unrequited love of my high school years. Nothing nearly as cool as what was in Breteaudeau's box.

If I could go back in time, I would probably put my very first copy of The Little House of the Prairie that I got in the second grade - the one that I read so often that within six months it no longer had a cover. I'd probably put my first copy of Little Women in there too. I would also have some scraps from the fabric store where my mom would take me in the afternoons after we got off from school. Fabric stores are extremely boring for kids, so I would go to the remnant box and wrap myself in assorted scraps and make up plays in my head and pretend. I would also have a picture of me and my first dog Jessica, a very beautiful and very proper Doberman pincher, who in the shot was wearing an old cheerleader's skirt. She was one of my two only playmates until I went to Kindergarten. And in honor of the other, I would have to have a picture of my cousin Shelia, and an old 45 of "Love Will Keep Us Together", because I loved that song and she used to goad me into calling the local radio DJ to request it over and over. And finally, I would have to have some of the pictures that I used to draw of my future wedding dress during class. They all had hoop skirts that would put Scarlett O'Hara to shame.

But that's the funny thing about boxes of memories, at least in the movies. When Breteaudeau opened his up, he was reminded of his childhood, and it inspired him to make things right in his own life. What if there is no box to be opened, and nothing that can ever be made right again? Even if you could get your heart's desire, or if anyone even knew what that was, there's no such thing as an Amelie to grant it.

In any case, feel free to tell me what would be in your childhood box.