Looking back, I can't remember a single one of my childhood bedrooms before I moved in with my dad. And yet I know I had a million imagination spaces. Places where I would go to be by myself and daydream. Most of them were outside actually. I'd spend a lot of time looking for hideaways hidden in hedges or up in an apricot tree. Stairwells that were mostly hidden. Or even the adobe hut I built in my backyard. (Yes, real adobe.)
I think these spaces are really important for children. I know that's where I let my brain/imagination go wherever it wanted and it's probably part of why I'm a writer
. I remember that Emily's little sister, Olivia (though we called he almost nothing but Yaya when she was little) had the most amazing dreaming nook. It was really just a little crawl-space closet under a stairwell, but Emily's mom painted it lavender and decked it out with all kinds of things for Yaya to love and dream to. I secretly covet that space even today, and used to crawl into it just for a minute, up until I was about eighteen. Where was your childhood imagination space? Wouldn't the room above be amazing? Even though there's pretty much no chance, due to the unfortunate decorating trends of the 80's, that my room ever looked like this, I'm going to dream that it did. I'm going to pretend that curly haired little blonde girl was me and this was one of my rooms I can't remember.
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