My happy place

Do you have a happy place?

I used to but time steals all wonder.

  First when I was but a tot it was always sitting in the back of a closet in the dark with a flashlight. Giggling to myself that no one would ever find me here. As if the KGB and MIB were at that very moment conspiring together to seek me out for fiendish experiments and dastardly plans.

Truth was, no one even knew I was gone.

Not that no one didn’t care for me just that, in my naïve little world I was sequestered away from all prying eyes but in the real world I was sitting in a closet for 10 minutes.

In my early teens, I graduated up to the cardboard box fort.

I was like one of those Russian babushka nesting dolls. A nerd, reading a book, in a box, in a room, in a house.

I even had pictures hanging from the walls in my castle, which were special spy pictures. Meaning if you took these hanging pictures of dogs and star wars and flipped them over there were pictures of women in their bras from the Sunday colored ads.

Yeah this was my pad.

Into my teenage years I had a tree.

Not a tree house or a tree fort but a tree. Maple if it matters.

That was “My Tree” for a few years. I spent 3 whole summers in that tree.

I climbed every single inch of that thing.

I even had a cargo net my dad gave me out in it that I would lay about in like a hammock and read (and get rope burns from as this was a real cargo net)

After getting married I always had a Man Cave or as they were more commonly known as, a Den. My computer room was always …well mine.

Now all of those are gone.

I don’t feel the overt need to sequester myself away from society as much as I used to.

Maybe once the kids are out of the house I will reclaim what is mine.

Until then though I have very my own happy place

in my mind’s eye

with me wherever I go

where its always warm and sunny and the fish bite next to a waterfall.

Really quite lovely and relaxing.

And when you turn the leaves of the tree over there are pictures of women in their bras.