It Was a Tiny Cavity

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It was a tiny cavity squeezed under the stair,
and when she chose to hide in it, nobody found her there.
Her mother didn’t know of it. Nor did her dad or brother.
This space was hers entirely. It belonged to no other.
It’s good for girls to have a space for dreams and privacy
to seal away the princess from towers and piracy.
A special place to wonder in. A sequestered place to think—
a place that isn’t ruffled or gingham, laced or pink.
A quiet place for only her to deal with the gestation
of all those massive ponderings that lead to maturation.
In a year or two she’ll grow too large for such small spaces
and she’ll be off to treehouses and other private places.
Until then, do not bother her. Leave that girl alone.
As her imagination she scrapes down to the bone,
a soup of creativity will simmer out of it
and carry her along with it once she doesn’t fit
into that tiny womb your house hid beneath the stair
in case a curious little girl needed a place back there.

The prompt today is cavity.

21 thoughts on “It Was a Tiny Cavity”

  1. Debbie Lynn's avatarDebbie Lynn

    Love this! It reminded me of my own little cubby spot I used to like to hide in when I was a little girl. 🙂 A place where I could be left alone with my own imagination. Thanks for that happy thought today.

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  3. VJ's avatarV.J. Knutson

    This reminded me of my son when he was little and would pull the pots out of the corner kitchen cabinet and crawl inside. And then your words evoked a memory of my own tiny space I crawled into with book in hand, or drawing paper, to escape of the madness of my family’s home. Well done. So creative.

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    2. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      This is fiction in part but I loved hidey holes and getaway places. And dreaming. Used to think it was doing nothing. Now I realize how much of my imagination came from those big “empty” periods in my growing up years.

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  9. thejuicenut's avatarthejuicenut

    I jad a cubby hole *over* the stairs in my bedroom when I was a teenager and if I positioned the door of it just right, no-one could come into my room unless I allowed them. I would sit in there writing and writing, amd listening to my tiny transistor radio playing pirate stations. I miss having my own private space.

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