Twenty Something: The Perfect Hiding Place {Writing Prompt}

Like most kids, at nine years old, I had a best friend. At the time, she was really the only friend I had, to be honest. Every afternoon after school, I would go to her house to play. Her house was my sanctuary. I could listen to New Kids on the Block. I could play video games. Her family lived on a coul de sac full of other kids from school, so we would get together and play kick ball, chase, soft ball, and other childhood favorites.

Things I couldn’t do at home. Friends didn’t come to my house. I wasn’t allowed to listen to anything but country music, or wear fun clothes. The neighborhood kids were all much older. Playing at my friend’s house was the only time I had to be a kid.

Then, my parents did the un-thinkable. They ripped me away from my entire life, and we moved to a new town, a new school, and a new life. What’s worse, we moved from a thriving, busy metropolitan out to farm country with the world’s smallest school district, biggest yards, and fewest neighbors.


I wish my nook looked this awesome.

Moving away from my sanctuary was a hard adjustment for me. I had nowhere to hide and be a kid again. I couldn’t make new friends in such a small town. All of these kids had been friends since birth. I was the weird kid, the outsider. I promised myself and my parents that I would go back home. That I would leave the one-horse-town our new home resided in, and go back to the city. I just needed time to pack. I needed to “iron out the details.”

Once, during recess, a boy in my class told me that if I just followed the railroad tracks, they would lead my straight out of town. He said I couldn’t get lost if I just stayed by the railroad tracks. I thought about it. I road in the bus past those railroad tracks every day on my way home from school. I could just never get the courage. I was a very compassionate person, even at such a young age. Every time I thought I had the courage up to leave, I would realize my birthday was coming up, or Christmas, or Mothers day. I thought to myself, “If I left now, it would hurt them too much to enjoy the holiday. I’ll wait until it’s over.”

Needless to say, I never ran away from home. I mean, where would I have gone? Instead, I created a safe haven for myself. I created my own little world that no one ever knew about in the back of my closet-complete with a reading lamp, my journal, my favorite pillow, and a stack of books that could take me anywhere I wanted to go. Just like that, I had found my sanctuary-my perfect hiding place. I spent every afternoon in there doing homework, reading books, and writing. I like to think that is where my love of writing came from.

Best of all, no one else knew it ever existed until just now.

These days, I no longer have a special hiding place in my closet. I'd love to have my own little nook, even as an adult. Of course, now, I'd settle for a great writing nook hidden in my closet!