It was a world within a world up in the attic. A place for waiting patiently for anger to subside… a place for hiding out…a place for growing up…a place outside of reality where one could reside in dreams. It was all there for the ransacking and it was all there just for her.
Piles of toys, used but never used up, were filed away for a nephew or niece or potential grandchild. Beside them were wooden drawers of neatly folded baby clothes, worn but not worn out, also awaiting a second life. Cardboard boxes of tarnished yet cherished, holiday ornaments, holding years of memories thus ensuring their survival were tucked carefully in the corners. Bags of potential Halloween costumes, authentically draped in cobwebs, rested patiently for their turn to be on stage. Stacks of snow skis’ and skates and racks of heavy coats and woolen scarfs lived half their lives up in that old attic. There were sleds as well as surfboards anticipating their waxing with dreams of speed. In one corner, sat a saddle, it’s leather cracked and dry, yet still able to incite a fantasy of riding the plains. Best of all, there were the books. The windows to so many worlds and into them all she loved to sneak.
At first it was Frank and Joe (Hardy) as well as Nancy (Drew), who were always solving their cases that sucked her in to their lives. The Black Stallion let her ride across his desert and afterwords she swam the cool waters with Misty of Chincoteague. Alice and Dorothy allowed her to explore their wondrous worlds with them and just as rapidly, Harper Lee brought her back to the reality of her Deep South, both cruel and caring.
So little time and so many words. Old and musty those books commanded power to possess. Through them she learned how to overcome fears. She observed the angst of first love gone awry and fretted with remorse over the loss of best and the brightest. The words would carry her away, sometimes softly, sometimes within a charge of a light brigade. Up in the attic, was her cocoon, her cave, her spiritual place of joy. It was the one place where she was free and her heart could learn how to sing, fearlessly.
On Location, Monday:
Up in the attic