I Love My Rose Colored Glasses
I have dreamed of houses since I was little. Tiny, cozy spaces hold magic for me. My best friend had a delapidated playhouse in her side yard when we were nine, handed down from her older siblings.
It is amazing how we can see things with such different eyes. This dirty old playhouse had a broken and peeling linoleum floor with a small dusty black piano. There was a little table and two chairs and I remember a few small plastic dishes.
I remember sitting and watching how the sunlight streamed in the dirty window. The specks of dust danced in the lazy afternoon sun. This tiny forgotten house held such magic and I wished it was mine.
At my house in the side yard we put an old vinyl red stool and another box for a chair and odds and ends to create a clubhouse of our own, which was a nice private place to be silly and tell stories and just dream.
One day after school we went over into her yard and I was horrified to find it … missing! I couldn’t believe it. What could possibly have happened? Confused, my friend explained that she had traded it for a bicycle. A bike! Now I already had a bike and never yearned for one.
I had discovered a sacred space that held magic, but all the details existed in my imagination. She didn’t share this vision with me at all and this was such a sad surprise to me. It only lived in my head and it held no other value to her than something to barter with to get her own treasure.
I find it interesting that every person paints such different images in their minds, attaching very personal emotions that draw us close. I still wish I had a tiny house, a small personal space to dream in and maybe create magic and ideas…
Was there a space that felt magical and sacred that you had as a child? What did you remember feeling in that space?
