The toy story

Back in a hotel room, packing for the journey home from one of my trips, I found myself staring at a problem made mostly of cardboard and air. I noticed something annoying about the mystery toy boxes that I had bought for my son. The toys were tiny. The boxes were not. Most of the luggage space seemed to be occupied by these oversized boxes. The solution was obvious. Open the boxes. Throw away the packaging. Tuck the toys into the suitcase. My hand was already reaching for the first box when I stopped.

In my hurry to save space, I had overlooked something obvious: the box was not merely protecting the toy. It was protecting the mystery. The toys themselves were only a fraction of the attraction. The real appeal lay in not knowing. From the outside, every box looked identical. Inside could be any one of several characters my son would have been delighted to find. Had I continued unboxing them, I would have carried home the toys — but left the mystery behind. It made me wonder how an unopened box could hold so much possibility. Before a mystery box is opened, it can be anything. The rare one. The favourite one. The one his friend already has.

For that brief period of not knowing, the box contained more than a toy. The empty space inside it was precious. It contained possibility. The mind does something interesting in the presence of possibility. It is where imagination is allowed to roam before reality arrives. Imagination, which is often more generous than reality, allows us to experience and live among many possibilities, even though reality contains only a single outcome. Each possibility appears and disappears, carrying its own small burst of excitement. Together, these fleeting excitements create a sense of joy that often exceeds the reality that eventually follows. Until the box is opened, the experience is limited only by the reach of your imagination.

Once opened, the search is over. The question has an answer. The imagination has less work to do. The experience becomes real — and only real. All the other possibilities that existed a moment earlier simply disappear. We encounter versions of this feeling elsewhere too. A child waiting for a birthday often enjoys the anticipation for days before the celebration itself. A vacation starts long before departure, as we browse photographs, discuss plans and imagine ourselves already there. Festivals, weddings and reunions gather energy well before they happen. The preparations become part of the experience. The event occupies one moment. The possibility occupies many. Part of the enjoyment lies in the fact that reality has not yet chosen a single outcome. The mind is still free to wander among the possibilities. Perhaps that is what I was really carrying home in those oversized boxes. Not just toys. A little more time for possibility to remain possibility.

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