Our Hiding Place
While I'm thinking of the barns and the play house places when Nancy and I were children, I also started thinking of times we spent away from our home base, so to speak. Nancy's parents owned acres and acres of land and we were often allowed to go exploring out over the hill, out of sight of home.
We picked flowers, umbrellas, (and later May apples), blueberries, and blackberries at times, but there were times when we just went out to play. We found a grouping of pine trees where they formed a wall around an open place and that became a "play house" for us, also. We didn't have much by way of furniture out there, but we had great imaginations.
We had a little flat tin box in which we kept our secret writings and we hid it under a rock there in that little play area. Now I have no idea what we wrote that we kept in the box and I also don't know whose box it was and where it ended up.
I would love to revisit our secret place but it's been so many years now and the place is very overgrown. I feel sure that i wouldn't be able to find it. I think the place exists only in my memory now. Some time ago when I questioned Nancy about our shared experiences in the past, she confessed to me that she's forgotten most of the adventures together. I think the secret hiding place is mine alone now, and it exists only in my memory where imagination is still alive and well.
Syndicate this site