TrustThe privacyof my ownroomA place to knock Before enteringUntil the rule shattered, I was freeto do anything, and hide my marijuana. Hide fromresponsibility, until dad came into my room to see the truth. No entrance without knocking and no more secrets. Until that day there was a boyturned into a man in the instant a knockwas notgiven on that day.
nice one Daryl
Yeah that's strong!
our 5 bedroom house was fullmy sister’s family filledthe upstairsmy brotherslept in the back porchwhich had all our sisters furniturethe bottom 3 bedrooms wereoccupied by Grandmame, Mom & Dadthe main downstairsbathroom was Grandma’sso I crept into the Master bathto take my morning showeras I got up early tostart my day
I suppose I was grown up at the time at 19, but Grandma was trying to maintain some sort of her own place at the time. there was a lot of tension in the house at the time.
I think you capture that. I like the rigid divides between people and place.
I like the second bit "...at the time" just as much. Thanks for sharing.
Nice sensitivity towards your elder.
A winter's viewout of their window looking south, down the street.On a snow day's view, I could see cars, still buried in white~~~~I am four.Between the dressers sits a cedar chest, where shorts, and tops waitfor summer. To be worn again, but for how many more seasons?
Oh that last question bring so much melancholy.
Wow, thanks. At that age, My Mother sewed for me. Clothes came and went as I grew. She's a saint.
“Grown up Places”Nothing was off limits, butSome places were electricWith mystery andCertain unknown purpose.Dad’s things in the garage,Mom’s things in her closet,The basement pantryWhere we waited out the storm.
Yes, I see it
Here's a belated response to this prompt.Grown Up PlacesMy parents’ bedroom was the one placein my childhood home I wasn’t welcome,at least when bad dreams seized meby the throat at 2 AM and sent me scurryingto the door. I’d sit shivering against the flimsyplywood, afraid to knock, thinking I heard footsteps creaking up the 19 stairs, stoppingin the doorway to my room, where the poltergeists would toss my shoes aroundand knock things from the shelvesuntil the sun came up. Sometimes,my mother heard me sniffling, and told me to come in. Then I’d curl up between my parents under the heavy blankets.
Wow, intense, Robbi. Thanks for sharing.