Lego My Heart

Times are indeed tough and the economy is scary. We all are feeling it in some way or another. Because I am a Teacher’s Aide by trade, and unemployed in the summer, lately I’ve been struggling just to make my bills each month. In an effort to supplement my income, I’ve been finding creatives way to generate money. Ebay has been handy in selling a couple old antique’s that I’ve had in storage and never use. Local online garage sales have been great tools in reselling clothes, furniture and my daughter’s wedding paraphernalia.

Last night while checking items I have for sale online, I saw that one woman was in search of Lego Blocks to buy.

I sat and stared at the screen for a few seconds and let my mind wander into the closet in my small half bedroom. There, set up high on a shelf, are several toys that my children have outgrown. These toys have traveled several states with us and have seen many new homes as we  moved over the years. But always they have been there to bring comfort to my babes. I specifically let my mind creep around the edges of the huge plastic pretzel jar that contained Lego blocks.

Just for kicks I instant messaged the lady and asked if she were in search of the large ones or the small ones. Somewhere in my heart, I know I was hoping she would reply” the large ones”. Then I could breath a sigh of relief and the Legos would be safe and sound on their closet shelf.

But when she replied that she was indeed in search of the small ones, I reluctantly checked out the going prices of used Lego blocks on Ebay. I took the huge jar from it’s place on the shelf and dumped the legos on the ground for a picture. I felt my fingers type a reply to her stating that I had 11 lbs of Lego blocks for 40.00. I accompanied it with the picture.  I hoped it would be too much for her and I could abandon this endeavor.

But no, she promptly answered that she would take them.

So began my descent in to melancholy.

All day, I thought of my oldest son and the many winter hours he spent clicking together such unique creations. I remembered how each Thanksgiving I would venture out and brave the maniacal crowds on Black Friday to snag a bucket or two of these precious blocks that would be on sale so cheap for that one day. Winters were for Legos.  That’s when my little family would lie on the floor and put them together and talk and bond. I recalled how my older son broke his younger brother into the magic. How they would work on a project together and argue and fuss a little but still manage to come up with some really amazing drag cars or space ships. The pride and commradery these two brothers felt despite the ten-year age difference would sparkle in their eyes and could be heard in their voices.

So just a half hour before I was to meet the Lego Lady and finalize the deal, I asked my self if I really wanted to do this. I felt like I was betraying my boys, selling a little piece of their childhood. I got down on my hands and knees and searched my heart as I scooped up the huge pile lying on the floor.

“Wow!” I thought, “This really is a huge mess to pick up!” And then it all came back to me. I cringed as I heard the echoes of fussing and arguing over who had to pick up the blocks, rubbed my foot as I recalled the many cuts received from accidentally stepping on a forgotten block, oh and the countless times I was startled as the vacuum snuffed up one of the pieces with much clicking and clacking.

“Heck,” I murmured, “There’s not going to be any little boys around here for quite a few years anyways.” The first grand baby due in November is to be a girl.

I grabbed the now full jar,  jumped into my jeep and whisked a way with my sons’ memories. I promptly handed it over and noticed the dust on the jar as I listened to the Lego Lady explain that her son was now bed ridden with crutches. She had bought him a few new box sets of Legos and  his daddy had helped him put them together. Much to his daddy’s chagrin the little guy was hooked and was going to be so excited to see this huge amount.

My heart melted and I felt a little relief. My sons’ memories were safe in each of our souls. The blocks were only material things.  From my boys’ hearts to another’s, the beloved blocks were finding a new home, a boy who would appreciate the art of Legoing and a daddy who was building memories.

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