When I was a little girl I used to go to a magical place that was my Grandmom's attic. It was full of wonderful, enchanting things that would keep a little girl happy and busy for hours.
From the moment I opened the door and walked up the creeky steps, I was mesmerized. There was a small window at the top of the stairs that allowed sunlight to filter through to clearly see all the treasures that were waiting inside.
I would play for hours in that attic. I would pretend to be a grown up while dressing up in Grandmom's dresses, high heeled shoes, hats and jewelry. Smearing on old red lipstick and spritzing on Blue Waltz perfume! I would sit in front of that fuzzy old mirror thinking that someday I would have a dresser covered with pretty, girlie things.
I would slip off into
everything was good and people were happy. I was so afraid of war at that age.
I remember asking my Mom why there had to be wars and why people wanted to hurt one another. I remember making a wish on my sixth birthday cake, that there would be no more wars.
I would play for hours in the attic, never wanting to leave. But, I would hear my Mom calling that it was time to come downstairs now. "That floor up there isn't very safe," she said. "You get down here now, it's time for lunch."
So, after the second call. I would leave my special place knowing that tomorrow I could go back again.
Where was your secret place when you were a child?