Bob Deakin Short Stories

Nothing like a good cardboard box to make the world a better place.

Whenever I’m feeling down or losing sight of my soul, a couple minutes inside a nice big cardboard box always sets me right. It’s like when I was a kid and dad brought home something big and new, there might be a wonderful cardboard home for me to get away from it all.

Just something about the privacy, the comfort in knowing no one could know what I was doing. Or more importantly, what I was thinking.

I know my brothers and sisters and parents couldn’t read my mind, but it felt like they could if they could see me and hear me. Not if I was in a big comfy cardboard box though.

The box always took me to all these places I wanted to go. The acoustics were such that the music sounded cozy, the words from the vocalist’s mouth making more sense in my big cardboard home.

It protected me too. Even if I brought it to the dreaded basement and hopped inside; I was alright. And back in the 60′s and 70′s, cardboard boxes lasted for a long time – built from the wood of freshly fallen rainforests.

I long for the comfort of that big cardboard box again. Just a few moments, maybe just a song or two. A hop back in that big box might just do me a world of good, and some good for the world.

Just as long as no one can see me inside, or know what I’m thinking.

Copyright 2010

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