It was a closet, but not just any closet

The wall at the back was fake

And you could push it to the side

If you knew the special way

Behind the wall were treasures

Stacked up decades high

Shelves and shelves of memories

Were stored there deep inside

It was also full of concrete dust

That covered every surface

From where my grandpa carved that room

During the Cuban missile crisis

It was meant to be a bomb shelter

To keep his family safe inside

If the worst ever happened

And bombs lit up the skies

But by the time that I was born

It was just a place to store stuff

And for a curious little girl

It was a place that dreams were made of

Grandma’s old jewelry cases

And boxes full of vinyl

Notebooks and letters and faded bills

With stamps like “PAID” and “FINAL”

I spent hours dreaming there

Writing stories of my own

Surrounded by the history

Of my family in the stone

That house was sold decades ago

And I’ve often sat and thought

If they know what’s behind

That closet’s faded wall.

~Mandy Kocsis©2023~