I didn’t grow up on Privet Drive, in fact I didn’t get to visit that house until much later in life – however I did have a closet of my own. It wasn’t under the stairs, however, it was hidden in so many more practical ways. A space I could go, but also could easily be found if needs arose, but when I entered my closet and closed the door – I could be a thousand miles away in an instant.
My closet was stocked with paper and pencils and notebooks – all the things a budding writer needs. I fancied myself the creator of fantastical worlds, from inside that closet. A writers’ comfortable nest of possibility – it was the bottom of the laundry shoot, after all.
As I grew, the closet changed along with me, but eventually – it stopped changing fast enough for me. I moved on. But the closet still held those words and worlds – I wonder who ever found those notebooks.
narnia or hobbiton or maybe just through the veil –
travel is a given,
from any space you call your own
This year was a challenge, I was helping family deal with some heavy work throughout the day – thank you all for your support and patience <3