How I Began Painting Boxes

How I Began Painting Boxes

There was a kitchen appliance store on the corner of my street when I was younger. My father would walk me to there every Saturday to choose an empty refrigerator box. I remember thinking he was so strong carrying that big box on his back and walking all the way home.
He would put it in the back yard and get out his box cutter so he could cut an I on two sides and a door that he would open for me. I ran inside and pushed out the windows he cut, and then we would look at each other and smile. “Go get your paint,” he would say, and I did.
I painted flowers under the windows, a window on the door, bricks and birds, and my cat at the bottom waiting to come inside. Then I would move my dolls in and we would play. We had a home until the rain came and it was time for a new box.
Saturday morning trips became a ritual until the winter came and it was too cold to build a home. That is how I began painting boxes.