The school I’ve been attending for the last few years has some pretty crappy dorms to live in. Though I chose to move into a house for a year out of my time here, there is a bit of affinity that I have for these run down, recycled military barracks that we call home.
Recently we’ve had to move around to prepare for some military transients and some summer school kids coming in. Pain… In… The… Ass… Regardless, tonight I moved most of my crap downstairs to my new room. Nothing different aside from something that took me by surprise as I walked in… Some old mailboxes. I don’t have the motivation to find out more about these particular boxes aside from the fact that they are probably fairly old.
As I’m sitting here procrastinating on some homework, I kept pondering the history behind the boxes. They have simple dial combination locks and most seem to be intact.
If it were like a movie, I imagined the scene here in the room going black and white. No fresh paint, old metal furniture and probably three to four bunks per room. I’m losing sight of my creative imagination as I write this so just imagine World War Two era scenes… Smoking, drinking, women, fighting… Ok, well that stuff happens now, but you get my point right?
So these mailboxes have lost combinations. If I had another year here I may take on the ridiculous project of breaking the code for each and every one… Actually not really but if I was really really bored I might. Looking at this thing I feel like if I was in a dream, opening each of these boxes would suck me into the world of whoever it was that owned that box. Maybe it was of an eighteen year old draftee thousands of miles from home not knowing if he’s going to see home again. Maybe the owners of some of these boxes ended up being heroes. Maybe some ended up in a mental institution or committed heinous crimes. Maybe someone used it post military era and used it to correspond with someone famous or maybe there was an epic love story behind the owners life.
To be a fly on the wall would be one thing, but to be a fly in a mailbox would be a whole other adventure…