When you were a kid there was always a special place you loved the most. As an adult, when the setting is just right and you close your eyes, it brings you back in a second. The feeling of calmness, peace for your one special place.
Box fan resting on brown pattern carpet, its noise humming through the air. A kitchen with two exits so one could run around in circles and never get caught.
Embossed golden tack strip transiting the linoleum to the carpet.
My own bedroom, with books I could not read and a Barbie wonderland of clothes, tiny hair brushes, and mismatched pairs of hot pink heels.
A bold yellow slip-n-slide stretching the length of the grass out back, with a peach tree at the end. Plastic blue pool with capsized Barbies. Wet feet leaving prints on the concrete.
Grape push-ups, jammies, and Mary Poppins for the hundredth time.
This was and remains my happy place, even if only reachable by memory.