Then I became a little older, and one day I found an old children's book about houses. Our own, secret little houses where we can go and be at rest.
Like under the table, hidden by the table cloth. Like when your Mother is lying on the couch, and closes her eyes. She's going into her own little house. Like a box, with windows cut for light.
I remember when I was much smaller, Dad's big desk was in our study area. This desk was made by my grandfather and has a huge opening for knees and feet. So big, that I used to drape a sheet over the opening, put a blanket on the floor inside and make it into a house. I remember sleeping in there once or twice, too. My desk at work has a similar opening, and some days I have a wild urge to hide inside that opening and relive the fun of those childhood games, escaping the reality of an adult world where it's just a desk, not a cottage for a little imagination kingdom.
I love closed in, little spaces. I like places to squeeze in, or spaces that aren't very open. I like secret houses, secret little places where I can go and be alone.
I remember when I was much smaller, Dad's big desk was in our study area. This desk was made by my grandfather and has a huge opening for knees and feet. So big, that I used to drape a sheet over the opening, put a blanket on the floor inside and make it into a house. I remember sleeping in there once or twice, too. My desk at work has a similar opening, and some days I have a wild urge to hide inside that opening and relive the fun of those childhood games, escaping the reality of an adult world where it's just a desk, not a cottage for a little imagination kingdom.
I love closed in, little spaces. I like places to squeeze in, or spaces that aren't very open. I like secret houses, secret little places where I can go and be alone.
Sometimes I have secret places and secret houses in my mind. Places deep within that I only know and explore. Secret houses of hope or dreams or wishes or ideas. There's something appealing to entering the doors of the secret portals, and knowing only I have admittance. I can be present with others, and yet in my secret place at the same time.
Sometimes, when I know someone very well, I'll invite them into my secret places.
Sometimes, it's places that I hold in my heart between me and God. Sometimes, it's ideas and thoughts that we have between us, God and I. A glance of knowing, and common pleasant thought to share, and a feeling of hope that it might become real one day in a different manner.
Secret houses of thoughts.
This is a secret house.
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