Aw, so sweet. The dim, safe cave of that boxed in bed never changed, but it allowed YOU to change within it. I never had the surrounding arms of a lower bunk, but you helped me remember all those phases of my own young self, Sharon. Thanks for calling it all to my mind. Beautifully recounted, my friend.
So easy to feel a part of your growing up in the cozy place where you nurtured yourself...and i can certainly relate to having a place to yourself to allow yourself ( although we didn't know those words to begin with, just knew how wonderful it felt to have a space where no one could interrupt your imagination, your reading, your SELF) I love it!
Thank you, Jill! I am so pleased this is a piece that you can relate to. The space to nurture ourselves is as important to our growth, as food and water.
Love, love, love this my beautiful baby sister! My memories are always intertwined with yours, but I don’t have your talent for writing! I’m going to cherish this one! 💞
Bunk bed fortification a castle at the beginning of memory lane . Yes, remember mine with a ladder to climb aloft and some days fell from the sky to choose bottoms bunk, safety first.
You got the top bunk, to be King of your world, Richard! But alas! The King had a fall! I was not allowed in the Castle, because I fell from the ladder. Hurt my pride.
So special, so well written, Sharon. It really gave us a sense of your "space" as you grew up there.
Thank you, Linda! It was the place I could get to know myself, quiet, away from the chaos of a busy household.
Lovely poem , Sharon. I could identify with and reflect! Thank you.
Thank you, Yael! I’m glad it gave you a time to remember. Our young lives were perpetually changing…a lot to reflect on.
Love the story of your "safe place" as you grew up. Love and hugs to you and your "boyfriend"!!
Thanks, Shirley! We all need a place to bloom. I will hug my “boyfriend!!” Back atcha’!! 🤟
So touching . One of my favorites Sharon
Thanks, Sonnie! You saw each of those stages come to life, over the years. 🦋
Aw, so sweet. The dim, safe cave of that boxed in bed never changed, but it allowed YOU to change within it. I never had the surrounding arms of a lower bunk, but you helped me remember all those phases of my own young self, Sharon. Thanks for calling it all to my mind. Beautifully recounted, my friend.
Thank you, Sharron! All those stages..pieces of our growth, strung together like pearls. Each one a precious memory.
All us old gals have a string of memory pearls. I know I do.
So easy to feel a part of your growing up in the cozy place where you nurtured yourself...and i can certainly relate to having a place to yourself to allow yourself ( although we didn't know those words to begin with, just knew how wonderful it felt to have a space where no one could interrupt your imagination, your reading, your SELF) I love it!
Thank you, Jill! I am so pleased this is a piece that you can relate to. The space to nurture ourselves is as important to our growth, as food and water.
Love, love, love this my beautiful baby sister! My memories are always intertwined with yours, but I don’t have your talent for writing! I’m going to cherish this one! 💞
Thank you so much, Sue! Yes, we shared so much, and of course, you remember our girls’ room. 💕
Bunk bed fortification a castle at the beginning of memory lane . Yes, remember mine with a ladder to climb aloft and some days fell from the sky to choose bottoms bunk, safety first.
You got the top bunk, to be King of your world, Richard! But alas! The King had a fall! I was not allowed in the Castle, because I fell from the ladder. Hurt my pride.
Hubris has a way of saying that too much is not good and tends to knock the wind out of you.
Sad. But true, Richard.
And when that happens a few pats on the back will make you breathe free again.