Simon & Garfunkel

It was a little house, with a white picket fence. One bedroom downstairs, two bedrooms upstairs, a living room, basement, kitchen, one bathroom, 6 people, 1 dog, 90 rabbits, and some chickens. Apple trees, pumpkin patch, vegetable garden, flowers, and all kinds of other things that I am positive if you ask my sisters or even my parents how they remember this house, it will be different from the way I just described it.

In all actuality, it was the house that I grew up in. And while my sisters grew up there as well, this would be the only house, besides the one my parents are currently in, that I, in particular, was to live at. It would be the house that I would draw my boxes for hopscotch on the driveway; the one that I would fall going up the stairs and hit my chin so hard that I still have a scar; as well as the place that I was to practice on my snare drum in the basement for my first year in band. In some sense, for me, I'm pretty sure this place was magic, and in other senses, for everyone else, it may have been the place where dolls would begin to dance under tables.

The best thing about this house was the secret hole in the floor. As you climbed the stairs and reached the top you would be directly in front of a large closet, there was not much of a hallway other than this little area with two bedrooms on either side. But in this very floor, this very wooden floor in front of the large closet there was a small square piece of wood that could be lifted if you stuck just the right utensil inside of it. What was in the floor you may wonder? Oh my, a dream for any young child. I can't even name some of the goodies!

There were dishes to what looked like a dollhouse set inside. I can still remember them, they were blue with white specs on them. Many dust bunnies also hid inside, next to a few Lego men. As well as other kitchen wares for a dollhouse. As well as a couple of Duracell batteries. 

I don't know who lived there before us, or how these things got there. But the treasures you could find underneath this old piece of ply wood were practically endless. I don't really remember removing many of the items under the wood for fear of someone finding out. I can remember a screw in there that stuck out just the right way inside that our little hands had to be careful not to brush by it too hard.

This treasure in the floor was like my secret door. Whenever I got a chance, I would go up there, sometimes with a flashlight to see what i could find. Sometimes even laying on the floor at various angles to get a better look of what lie beneath. 

Just a girl, wishing so badly to go back to her little house with the white picket fence and the maroon shutters, back to her secret hole in the floor, when life was a little simpler and things were a little easier, for her at least.