My attic room

 Time has ushered in memories I thought were forgotten. Moments so special from my youth fighting their way to the top to help me relive even the most basic of people, places, and things I buried a long time ago.

I remember the first years of my life in a house so small that my room was in the attic. It was a dark, lonely place where my eyes were affixed to the ceiling, seeing watermarks and peeling paint. The wooden ladder that came down from the attic signaled to me that someone was approaching, and over time, I recognized whose footsteps were coming up to my room in the sky.

Anyone taller than my mom had to duck so they would not hit their head on the ceiling with exposed nails. Dad promised to take care of it, but it wasn't until my older sister came up and hit a nail that it got fixed. I believe she still carries that small scar to this day.

I grew to love my solitude in my attic room. It was a place where I could play with my imaginary heroes and act out their superpowers, sometimes with too much noise that prompted a hit on the floor from mom smacking her broom on the kitchen ceiling.

I was fourteen years old when my parents sold the little house and moved to a much larger place, where I had an actual bedroom to myself. Nobody had to duck or risk a nail in the head. It was a great room, but the one thing I remember missing the most was being alone to act out my fantasies with no prying eyes. I even missed Mom's broom banging on the kitchen ceiling, signaling me I was being too noisy.

We tend to forget those childhood memories no matter how important they were. I suppose to make room for the memories we built our life around.

I'm into my seventy-first year in this world, and I'd venture to say my memories of my youth are powerful and wonderful, all mashed together to surface and bring me back to the times I loved the most.

People often ask me how I dreamed up the characters I write about in my books and blogs. I tell them I reach back and pull out memories with meaning, then add a pinch of make-believe, leaving it to the reader to figure out what is what.

Mike 2025