The other day while rummaging in a closet I was instantly overcome with joy

when I ran across our storage bins filled with our children’s once used toys.


Toys our children and grandchildren played with when they were young and new…

Toys that don’t grow up…like children and grandchildren do


A set of nesting cups for the bathtub, noise makers and little bouncing balls

plastic telephones where every child made imaginary calls.


Toys that at one time were their favorites…

toys they once adored.

Toys that served their purpose 

but don’t get played with anymore.


A bunch of bendy action figures…which much to our elation 

our children and grandchildren used…

to fuel their imaginations.


Those thick little baby books, a stuffed doggie, soft and brown

wooden blocks with painted letters they'd stack up…

then knock down.


As I picked up a plastic microphone and a bunch of different tiny cars

I thought how every toy inside these bins are part of who they are.


Because each of these toys was special once… 

because each had their own heyday

there’s no way we could ever throw them out…

no way we'll ever give them away. 


So they live in quiet comfort…

who knows…

we may live to see the day

when great great grandchildren come to visit…

who will no doubt want to play.


“Hey I remember playing with this when I was your age!” 

We imagine their parents will say

and we’ll sit back and we'll smile 

as we watch a new generation at play…


I imagine there are toys like these 

in closets all across the USA…

quietly resting in bins of their own…

patiently awaiting  that day.n…


patiently waiting for that day.

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A Toy to Remember

A toy to remember.


Twenty-four seven I see a cold and sterile white roof in front of me, I sit patiently watching the same hollow television shows day after day. I’ve been here for as long as I can remember. So long in fact that the room even comes close to feeling like home sometimes, but there’s just something about it. It oozes of sterility, of loneliness, it oozes of the feeling of time slowing down. It’s weird, even though my mother stays on the sofa next to me almost all day and night I can’t help but feel some sort of loneliness creeping into me.  I lie on my so-called bed, in a vacant-pensive mood, trying to think of the last time I went out into the world.  A world where white coats and blue uniforms are not the only thing people wear. A world where people are not trying to shove medicine on to your face every five minutes, or trying to put needles in your arm. A place where water doesn’t taste like cleansed puke. A knock on the door is all it takes to take me out of my pensive state of mind. My grandparents come into the room, just a few days after their last visit. There’s a bag in their hands, in it something that would change my state of mind for the rest of my hospital stay. A Mario Brothers pair of toys, a Mario Mario and a Luigi Mario, as they are called in that godawful movie adaptation of the nineties. I have always been my grandmother’s spoiled grandson, which is why she visits often, and always buys me things to try and cheer me up. But nothing ever got as much of my attention as this Mario toy has. It has bright red paint on it, a huge contrast to the whiteness of the room. It comes with a go-kart of the same color, with which I can make him do all sorts of crazy maneuvers around the room. It has become my partner in crime, with me whenever I cause mischief in the hospital. My obsession with the Mario franchise started the day she brought me that toy, and it has never let go of me. Years go by, and my collection of Mario figures and toys grows larger by the minute. My original Mario toy becomes a casualty to the passage of time and the increasing toy count, it’s lost somewhere in the limbo that is my closet. The day I moved out of my house I found it, all dirty. Some of its bright red paint had come off, and it was missing one of its hands. Nowadays even though it’s not the prettiest toy in my collection, it sits in the middle of every other Mario I’ve collected over the years, reminding me of the fun times I had with it, and the support my grandmother gave me while I was stranded in the hospital.

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My brother's mega blocks

A new movie has arrived and available in theaters it is. An amusing and exciting popular film for children at the top of the box office. Merchandise pops up here and there in every store you walk in front of. Modern action figures including many special features never seen before seem to persuade kids well-enough. The toys catch my brother’s eyes because they’re all that he wants. After hours of entreaties in tears, his mother can’t help it but to make the purchase, my brother has a glare of joy drawn in his face. My brother gets what he wanted so on and on for weeks he enjoys his new toy. Thus he plays shooting plastic flame-like ammo at the other characters, making up storylines with witty dialogues between his action figures who are fighting over their issues. After a while, he’s exhausted all features this thing has, so the new toy lays in a random dusty spot which is usually somewhere on the floor. He then finds himself playing with his mega blocks, he had built multi-colored houses, squared ships, a yellowish L-shaped gun that has shot dead every member in his family at least a dozen times each. He had run out of ideas but his mind is refreshed, and the new toy has joined the bench. He’s now building an Eiffel Tower held up by sloped pillars and shooting 3-block bullets with another thing that was meant to propel hot-wheels cars. No matter what new toy is for sale in every store, for my brother it’ll be fun for a while until the new features aren’t new anymore. My brother doesn’t ask anything to any twister since wherever he plays it won’t stay the same by the end of his game. The toys he owns aren’t lucky at all, the more charm they have, the more odd-looking they get with a missing arm. Yes, they get torn apart since they come in one piece but that’s not the case of the mega blocks which you can always break down and put back together to get new things. He will always come back with more ideas for his Lego-like mega blocks. He makes a mess though, for each room in my former home you may find a bunch of these figures in more than a row. After all, he can’t be blamed by me at all, I was the one leaving those very same old mega blocks on the floor about a decade ago. That’s the way my bother Diego goes with his mega blocks.

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