by Frank Butry

Created on: August 21, 2008

I can still hear the creaking of the old wood bannister, the sound of the door, a big old wooden door, with glass handles to boot! This was my sanctuary, my special place that I shared with no one. Except my mother who cleaned it! The walls were decorated with banners of my favorite sports teams, and glossy pictures of the heroes of the field I worshipped. I had a cherry dresser, and on the marble top, filled with various models of monsters that I had watched in horror in the movies or on the black and white television. The old linden tree, like a giant friend, outside of my window keeping watch on me, when it would moan out a lonesome sigh, I knew rain was on the way, the breeze was picking up. The leaves in the summer shaded my room, and in winter the bent branches would scratch against the window as if to beg me to bring spring back.

My room was a place that I kept my hopes and fears. It was a place like a confessional, I would pray every night and learn to believe in myself, and know that downstairs the two people who loved me most would be kept safe and sound. I would close my eyes on top of my four post bed, and think real hard on how I could be the best ball player or how I could try and study harder. The bed was my desk at times, I would have strewn about local and national papers to keep up with my teams, to young to care about the news. Just give me the score of the Twins game please! In the winter, it was my desk to read and do homework, sometimes forgetting the pencil I left behind, gently poking me in the butt to be put away for next time.

My closet was a cluster of clothes and board games, sorry, no creatures lurking in there. Although I swear I once seen the wolfman hiding in it, beneath my school uniform. I even had a secret hiding place underneath one of the broken floorboards. I would stash my pennies and nickles to save for my beloved Mallow Cups. I hid those in there too. I had no TV in there, no video games or a computer, butI had something far greater, my imagination and countless books to read. I went to sleep peacefully dreaming of places I would see when I was older, and maybe some great people too.

I haven't seen the room in many years, at least not physically, but in my thoughts I go back there sometimes, hoping to see my tree and if I can hear Dad coming up the stairs. For it was my parents who not only gave the room for me to sleep in, but to give me privacy and a sense of learning to get awy from all the world when I needed to.

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