I once gave my mother an oddly shaped wooden box. I like wooden boxes myself, so I tend to give them as gifts. It’s fun to fill my own with little treasures. I often forget what’s in them and get to surprise myself from time to time by exploring their contents.
When Mother died and I opened her various tins and boxes, I realized she did the same. Now I get to explore them, too, and the particular wooden box I mentioned is among my favorites. It includes this little homemade bag of jacks with a ball. I don’t think they’re jacks from when David, Debby, and I were kids since they have too much paint on them. Because they look newer, and the ball is certainly a more contemporary version of those we used, I suspect she found them, bag and all, at a thrift store. I do seem to remember her once telling me she used them to help keep her hands agile. But I think she just liked playing jacks, much the same way, when skates were the craze in the 1970s, she put mine on one day and skated around the carport to show that she still could.
No matter how old we get, I think it’s important to respect the child within us.
I might have even played onesies after I shot this photo.
Prompt from FMS Photo A Day.