Yesterday I found out my child told their therapist they used to live in a cardboard box.

I burst out laughing!

This child has been through a lot.  But, thankfully, not living in a cardboard box.  Turns out, they’ve always wished they could live in a box.  Who knew?

When I was little, I wished (and prayed hard!) for a life full of adventures.  I also wished for red hair and freckles.

I remember sitting in the back seat of our station wagon with my friend, Kathy, when I was pretty young.  She asked how I would describe myself to someone who’d never seen me.  I’ll never forget my mom’s shocked look in the rear view mirror when I said, “I’d say I had red hair and freckles.”  

As you can see– I had neither.
(How did I think Kathy wouldn’t notice that?)

I finally got around to dying my hair red, gave up on the freckles, and wonder what the heck I was thinking about the adventures.

No- actually- I know exactly what I was thinking.  I’d read somewhere about some famous author who’d been kidnapped as a child. I assumed that in order to write about adventures, you had to have experienced them.  I knew I wanted to be a writer, and figured the only way to get there was to have a life full of wild and crazy “adventures.”  Years later I read Louis L’Amour’s autobiography.  He actually did experience many of the things he wrote about.  One line jumped off the page at me.

“An adventure is just something you wish wasn’t happening.”

I should have read that a lot earlier.

Dear child of mine, I hope you never “get” to live in a cardboard box.  =)