Collector of Junk
When my nephew was a kid he would wander around the neighborhood and collect free stuff from the curb. My mom used to call it other people's junk. He didn't see it that way. For him they were treasures. He would bring home old bikes, there were a million of them stacked up in the backyard, dishes, cups, balls, pens, cardboard, shoes, etc...anything which was left at tjer curb with a free sign. Every time he went outside to play the song from the sitcom Sanford and Son would play in my head. He really reminded me of Fred Sanford.
My mom thought he would probably out grow it. She waited and waited. She waited for years. But nine times out of ten when he went outside or walked to school he would come back with some thing.
I am pretty sure my son inherited this trait. Since my mom said her dad used to be almost the way. The other day next door by the curb was a box that had the magic words FREE on it. My son raced down the stairs like a bat out of hell, as my grandmother would have said, he couldn't wait to see what hidden treasures were waiting for him inside that small cardboard box.
My mom yelled after him not to bring up any junk. She forgot just like his cousin before him and their grandfather and great-grandfather before them collecting "junk" or as they saw it treasures. My son paid her no mind and excitedly looked in the box. A few minutes later he came running back with something in his hand. He showed my mom what he had. He found flowers and a magnetic. He was pleased with himself and smiled as he put the magnetic in its new home on the fridge next to a picture he'd taken last year of a flower. The flowers found their new home too on this cabinet in the kitchen we call "the white cabinets". My mom didn't say much. She knows it would be pretty pointless. She just sort of shrugged her shoulders and sat down in front of the TV.
My nephew returned from work a few hours later. He asked did anyone notice the box at the curb that said Free. He had that light in his eyes he used to have when he was a kid and came home with his treasures. My mom rolled her eyes and told him my son had already been there. He smiled and together, along with my son, they looked at what he had gotten out of the box and shared stories about other people's junk.
I guess some things never change or are outgrown.
My mom thought he would probably out grow it. She waited and waited. She waited for years. But nine times out of ten when he went outside or walked to school he would come back with some thing.
I am pretty sure my son inherited this trait. Since my mom said her dad used to be almost the way. The other day next door by the curb was a box that had the magic words FREE on it. My son raced down the stairs like a bat out of hell, as my grandmother would have said, he couldn't wait to see what hidden treasures were waiting for him inside that small cardboard box.
My mom yelled after him not to bring up any junk. She forgot just like his cousin before him and their grandfather and great-grandfather before them collecting "junk" or as they saw it treasures. My son paid her no mind and excitedly looked in the box. A few minutes later he came running back with something in his hand. He showed my mom what he had. He found flowers and a magnetic. He was pleased with himself and smiled as he put the magnetic in its new home on the fridge next to a picture he'd taken last year of a flower. The flowers found their new home too on this cabinet in the kitchen we call "the white cabinets". My mom didn't say much. She knows it would be pretty pointless. She just sort of shrugged her shoulders and sat down in front of the TV.
My nephew returned from work a few hours later. He asked did anyone notice the box at the curb that said Free. He had that light in his eyes he used to have when he was a kid and came home with his treasures. My mom rolled her eyes and told him my son had already been there. He smiled and together, along with my son, they looked at what he had gotten out of the box and shared stories about other people's junk.
I guess some things never change or are outgrown.
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