The Toy Box

Today I rifled through an old wooden military box I used as a toy box when I was a kid. Instead of toys it had become a receptacle for momentos and reminders of times gone by. I was looking for something in particular. It was not there, but my old varsity jacket from high school was. I pulled it out and wondered why it was so important to me then and whether it was still important to me now. In high school, a varsity jacket elevates you and sets you apart from the other losers in school. It's effect on your life then is much more dramatic than 35 years later. 35 years later, I look at it and am sure it has shrunk. Physically and metaphorically. I smiled as I put it back. I knew now what I should have known then. It was just a jacket. And now it was just a jacket that did not fit anymore. Physically and metaphorically.