I have a few tangible items from my childhood. One of those things is this little wagon with red wheels. It is battered and scarred, devoid of the primary coloured blocks and dowels that it at one time held.
73/365 wagon
It was given to me in a box of stuff my parents passed on to me when my eldest was born. The blocks and dowels are scattered around the nooks and crannies of my tiny Ballard home, most likely buried under the piles of laundry and the accumulation of junk that occurs after twenty years of togetherness and will reappear when I least expect it.
I hope that I find some of those blocks. But even if I don’t there are memories in that relic from the past. If those wheels could talk, the stories they could divulge. I wonder what memories this holds for my siblings?
Ahh. Buliding blocks. The basis of construction. Whatever the game, the blocks could turn into a fort, a castle, or whatever was needed as a prop. Love blocks!