Roxaboxen, written by Alice McLerran and beautifully illustrated by Barbara Cooney, is one of my absolute favorite children’s books. It is a nostalgic story about the magic of childhood imagination that leaves me in tears every time “grey-haired Charles” returns to the place of his upbringing.
Reading Roxaboxen often leads me to reminisce about places around my childhood home where my imagination would run wild, and I wonder how so much facination happened in such small spaces.
Here’s my list of places I treasured:
- A skeleton key opened a museum for exploring hidden treasures up the crickety steps to the attic.
- A winding “castle” stairwell, carpeted in forest green and walls adorned with hunters on horseback, led from the front porch entryway to the my grandparents’ porch upstairs.
- The six-by-six hollow with the dirt floor under our side porch became a playhouse and even a snowshelter when the snow fell by the foot rather than by inches.
- Then there was the narrow passage between the two garages. If you scaled the cinder block walls just right with your back against one while pressing your feet against the other, you were a spy making your way to the roof for a bird’s-eye view of the lurking villains.
- My favorite was my classroom of dolls and teddy bears who, over the boiler’s hum, learned their ABC’s etched on the chalkboard in the storage room of our cellar.
There was no care about impracticality or silliness. As long as I was back in the house before the street lights went on, my parents didn’t hover. I was a child doing a child’s work and they were adults doing theirs. I’m sure they didn’t worry about this kind of play “rotting my brain”.
I invite you to share this post with family and friends encouraging them to follow and comment with treasured places around their homes where childhood imaginations soared. I bet many of our experiences may be similar… and even if you are an adult, I invite you to find a cozy spot to enjoy reading Roxaboxen. Just be sure to have a box of tissues nearby!
One place my sister Michelle forgot to write about was “her hair salon”!in her bedroom. We would look at her do her hair, even cut her hair, from my cousin’s kitchen window, which was directly across from Michelle’s Bedroom. She would swing her long black locks from side to side trying to decide her next hairstyle.
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Even my Barbies were styled there. Except their hair grew out in tufts so the Dorothy Hammel hairstyles weren’t too becoming on them.
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I love your blog, Michelle! What you wrote about your favorite places got me to reminisce about my favorite place. We used to have a huge maple in the yard and in the summer my dad, when he had time, would lie in a hassock and just enjoy the day. My favorite place was sitting near him . We didn’t have to say a lot. Just sharing that quiet time with him was special.
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I’m thrilled it inspired you to reminisce and wish I had the chance to have known your dad. Thank you for following and sharing!
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