The World Beyond the Wooden Gate

She leaned against her backyard fence. She could hear the neighborhood kids laugh by on their bikes up and down the curvy street she lived on. Sometimes, she spied on them through the slits in the wooden fence. So happy with one another. Yelling, screaming and laughing as kids usually do. Her happy place was on the other side of the fence. Near the giant plastic garbage bins and air conditioning unit. There was also a giant, black satellite pole that stuck out of the ground near the door to the garage that she measured her height on as years went by. A couple of lines of green paint still there. She was almost the same size as she had started this tradition near her only and last growth spurt. It was only a sliver of concrete that she liked to stand along. She thought of her hopes, dreams, bad days and realities. Her imagination took her everywhere. One day she would recite presidential speeches on how the world could be better. The next day, she could look up to the sky and see herself being picked up by a steam punk zeppelin where she started adventures with her new crew of characters. Another time she would try singing into a tape recorder to see if her voice was as pretty as the words she sang. Other days were not so creative, but no less active. She would strap in her roller blades and turn around the satellite pole until she could spin the most times without being dizzy. She played handball by herself against the side wall until it was dark. And then there were times where she just sat and cried because she knew that no one could see or hear her. Bad days were rare, but they still happened. It was her space outside of her space. As far as she could get away from home while still being home. But when the children she didn’t know would pass by her space, she would always go quiet. She wanted to listen to them. Wonder what it was like to have freedom on the other side of that wooden gate. What it was like to interact with people who weren’t imaginary and set in her creation. She wondered what it had all meant for her. At any moment she knew that she could just open the latch and watch them play. She might ask if she could join them or perhaps look sad enough for them to ask her. (Although the latter never worked for her in ANY situation) She wished she could just watch them. Like a television show that was outside. People-watching. Her imagination grew more hungry for a real companion to her stories and lonely activities. Someone to console her or laugh with her. With a whole other world out there, perhaps just one person can come into hers.

Secret Spot

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