A Love Letter to Plastic Bricks

I’ll never let go of my Legos


Imagine opening a gift. As you pick up the small, rectangular box, you hear the shuffling of tiny plastic bricks within and your heart races at the thought of what could be underneath the wrapping paper. As you tear away the festive wrap, you see the round white and yellow text with a red square background, and your hopes are assured: it’s a brand new Lego set.

As far as I could remember, Lego has held a special place in my heart. All I ever wanted were Legos and my childhood practically revolved around them. Whether it was Bionicle, “Star Wars” or Racers, I was in love with the company and their play sets. It was my obsession.

What made Lego so much fun wasn’t just building the set that was on the box. What really sold Lego to me was that I loved taking sets apart and making something new. Legos let my imagination run wild and build things that went above and beyond the printed instructions. Usually, sets would be put together for a few weeks before I destroyed them and turned them into something new, and I was fine with it. As long as I kept the instructions, I didn’t mind taking apart sets.

Building new things out of the little bricks was my way of expressing my creativity. Funnily enough, I wasn’t the biggest fan of writing as a kid. I would dread writing assignments and procrastinate so hard on them that my mom had to sit next to me just to make sure I wrote. It was not the creative outlet that it is today. Legos, on the other hand, I could do anything with them.

Back in elementary school, my class had to make a doll of ourselves and write an “all about me” essay to go with the doll. While everyone made dolls out of cloth or felt, I made mine out of bricks. It not only had movable arms and a pair of glasses, but my torso could also be removed to reveal inner organs. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was an accurate representation of me. But that’s not the only Lego story from my childhood.

At one of my friend’s birthday parties, she had a game where everyone got a little car set that we had to build. Everyone knew that I would finish first, and sure enough, I beat everyone by a landslide. It felt great knowing I was the best builder, but at the same time, I wanted to help everyone finish their models so that we could all have cars. So I went around helping everyone. Needless to say, it felt fantastic. It was one of the earliest memories I have of helping people with something I’m passionate about.

I was so in love with Lego that I even did a whole PowerPoint presentation on the brand. Originally a toy company from Denmark that specialized in wooden toys in 1932, the iconic plastic brick didn’t come about until 1949. Ever since then, the interlocking bricks have been driving the children’s toy market, and have no signs of slowing down.

Even as an adult, Lego still finds itself coming into my life. Just a year ago, one of my best friends got the Lego Star Wars Ultimate Collector’s Millennium Falcon. Consisting of a whopping 7541 pieces and measuring at over 32 inches long and 23 inches wide, the “Ultimate Collector’s” label is no joke. I helped him build the ship over the span of two days with sessions that lasted hours. After not playing with Legos for years, it felt great to put the plastic pieces together once again.

Lego is one of those toys that spans generations. Adults like me that grew up with them can connect with kids who are just discovering them and form meaningful bonds; you can bet that I’ll be playing Legos with my future kids. The best part of Lego is just how limitless it lets your imagination be. You can take any set and let your mind run wild with ideas and creations. Lego is my first love and will stay with me for the rest of my life. They built me into the creative that I am today.