I will be turning 29 next week and while I may not be one to harp on age, there is a sense of “oh my goodness, I’m an adult now” that has marked the choices I’ve made this year. Sometimes, it’s a bit overwhelming to have to fend for myself, so I decided to do something completely indulgent and buy myself a present, one that serves no real function or purpose except to make me happy.
So why does an old lunchbox please me so much? It all started when I went off to school for the very first time, MoonDreamers lunchbox in hand and a thermos full of spaghetti inside. I remember having lots of spaghetti for lunch as a kid, until I ended up on the school lunch program after my mom started working again. I loved my lunchbox. I remember carrying it proudly to the cafeteria, swinging it as I walked in line with my fellow classmates. I didn’t always love what I found inside, but the cool factor of having a lunchbox with cartoons and glow-in-the-dark spots was worth it.
I must’ve loved the MoonDreamers too, though I always wonder just how much I really understood. You see, I only spoke Spanish until I started going to school and was thrown off the deep end into English. Somehow, I managed to make meaning while watching that show, and that lunchbox cinched it.
My mom gave my lunchbox away after I started receiving school lunches. I didn’t realize the loss until I was older and by then it was too late to get it back from my cousins (to whom most of my things went). This isn’t the box I had–mine was blue–but it makes me smile all the same.
marginalia and such 