Box Fort Memorial

Since I live alone, I have the lovely privilege of having everything my way in my home. Consequently, besides the usual furnishings I have a colorful play tent set up in my dining room, various stuffed animals strategically piled here and there, a few dinosaurs and dragons on the table holding my TV, a toybox for miscellaneous items, plastic containers for NERF guns and darts, and a bookcase dedicated to books, games, and odds and ends –all geared to make my dwelling grandchildren friendly. They love coming here as much as I adore having them.

When my two grandboys who live ½ mile away come to stay with me for a couple days they know the first day they can pull out and play with anything and everything –and they don’t have to clean it up until the following day. The first day is called destruction day; the second is reconstruction day. Happily, they are never destructive, just free and relaxed knowing they are loved and that all is well.

A few years ago, I received a very large box from Amazon. I have long forgotten what came in it, but it was the perfect size for a 6-year-old grandson to make into a fort. Set on one side and pushed up against the back of my front room couch, it was perfect. He cut a handhole in the flap that served as a door, then cut two window flaps in the front which would accommodate surprise NERF gun attacks. In the days that followed he used crayons to thoroughly decorate his Box Fort, writing “Pay Back Time” above the flap windows. He’d moved in. It provided him great fun, privacy and, at times, solace, for some four years.

Recently the top of Box Fort began to sag a little. Upon realizing his refuge’s days were numbered, my now 10-year-old grandson solemnly told me, “It’s time.” He was sad, but wisely resigned. I suggested we hold a memorial before dismantling and removing it. He thought that was appropriate. He wrote a little farewell message and read it out loud to celebrate Box Fort’s passing. We played one of his favorite songs from four years ago as he carefully and respectfully cut and took the box down, folded it and lovingly carried it outside to place in the big blue recycle bin out back. All of which I recorded for him on my iPhone.

He moved into the colorful play tent in my dining room. It’s made from nylon with a peaked top and a flag. His older brother, now 14-years-old and 5’9” tall, no longer fits into the tent so it’s been designated off limits to him. Once again, younger brother will have his privacy. He’s already set up his Council of Six inside and is comforted from the loss of his well-used, cherished Box Fort.