Childhood is such an innocent time in your life. Your childhood builds the foundation to which you will become. It creates the boundaries to which you will grow into. A child’s imagination is a very vivid and wide ranged. A child can see things we cannot hear, they hear things that we cannot hear. It is very detailed and sensitive and important to the overall development. It was in my childhood, where I found my secret hideaway place. I remember the day very vividly. I was 5 and still the only child.
We had just moved into a one bedroom apartment, my mother and I. There were boxes everywhere, of all different sizes. My mother looked at me and said, “We’re going to save the big boxes to make you a play house”. I had no idea what a play house was, or why I even needed it. I had a ton of toys, and dolls. But I had no idea what a play house would do to enhance my play time experience. Two large cardboard boxes set the foundation to my house. Standing on the outside of the house, you could see the beautiful detail my artistic mother put into the structure.
It was painted pink and yellow. There were windows, four to be exact, on each side of the house. Each window was cut from a different shape, one circle, one square, one triangle, and one rectangle. There was a flowerbed drawn under each window. The flowerbed contained different types of flowers, most of them tulips, probably because that’s the easiest to draw, all different colors and sizes. There was a little flap that served as a front door. It was painted bright red, and had a little circle knob drawn onto it as well.
Walking into the house was magical. Instantly I entered into my own world. The side of my play house was just as detailed as the outside. There were four walls, and each wall contained a different color and pictures. There were real photographs of me, and my family members. There was a section that had numbers and letters so that I could practice learning them. There were pictures of teddy bears and clowns, because my mother knew there were my favorite things. There were the names of the shapes above each shaped window.
In the middle of the house sat one single chair, for me to sit inside, and view the outside would through my own little window. I can remember sittings for hours. Playing and imagining different scenarios, I would teach my dolls and shapes, letters, and numbers. Sometimes the playhouse would be a mansion, and sometimes a classroom. It was my little get away, my moment within reality, a space that belonged to me and only me. I often times watched Television through the window or front door of the house.
It was my look into the grown people world, from my own. I couldn’t tell you what ever happened to that little play house. I honestly don’t remember when it was taken down, or why it was taken down. It just kind of disappeared, as the reality of the adult world appeared. I am, however, grateful, for my little playhouse and the foundation it built for me in my adult life. My little play house provided me with security and substance. It taught me to use my mind, to see beyond what is in front of me and most importantly to think outside the box.