of Legos and futures
Note: Here is an old post from before I redid the blog. It is to tide any awesome readers over until I finish my massive novella on my Hawaii travels. Orig published in October 2009.
We were sitting in the living room corner building the first leg of a desk to be entirely made out of Legos, sans the glass top so everything could rest on it smoothly and you could avoid little bumps impressed on your forearms after typing on the keyboard. It was a desk that had been talked about for years, but never truly realized. A desk that was only believed in after an unexpected turn of money came our way. A desk that finally made us realize we were living our dream.
I wanted it purple, but purple Legos were more expensive and it was ultimately his desk. However, I held the point that I paid for it so I should get to pick the style and color while he gets to help build and enjoy it. But he won out. The desk ended up classic colors after all.
The desk took a month total of two people’s unemployed-average-social-life-time to complete. Once we were finished we started setting things upon the desk and inside the functional drawers and cabinets. The things we set on top were staples of our modern day time together. The iMac we had purchased, a Lego picture frame of us smiling and drunk in Vegas, a keyboard that had not only once fallen prey to our lovable dog (why we didn’t buy a new keyboard before a desk made of Legos, I will never know). In the drawers went notes we wanted to keep around from our days in college, bills we didn’t want to pay but could now afford to, paperclips, jewelry bought by each other and previous lovers, and extra Legos just in case we had any mishaps.
But time passed. And this desk we built, toiled over, became more than a desk. Soon it began to gather an assortment of items to define our life together. My engagement ring after my carpal tunnel started acting up, a picture of my father who had passed away since the construction of the desk, his acceptance papers into graduate school, pens we had stolen from funeral homes to wedding chapels, and at random times the desk would even hold a place for one of our cats. We were, however, never courageous enough to see if the desk would support our afternoon romps. We didn’t want to have to start all over (regarding both things).
So was the desk that we kept throughout our lives. A desk that made us always feel young. A desk that would make movers panic every time we relocated. A desk our children one day loved and that our friends would always brag about. A desk that my mother would always roll her eyes over, but secretly enjoy the humor in. A desk that watched us grow older and happy, even throughout the trying times in life. A desk of individual pieces of well formed stuck together plastic that stood like a fucking rock.