The Escape Within

The inside of our house was wallpaper covered and like all wallpaper-covered houses our house was warm and the food was delicious. It was on the second floor and the door opened into the living room at an odd angle. To the left of the entrance were the dining and the living rooms, separated conceptually by a pillar. To the right was the wall, which ended at the kitchen door, and the kitchen itself was wrapped around the sunroof and was the brightest spot in the house. Dead-on from the entrance was the corridor that housed the bathroom, the toilet, and the table where I often cried over my math homework. It led to the bedrooms. To the left was my parent’s bedroom, very small, tense, as vulnerable as their marriage, and too bright to be warm. To the right was grandma’s bedroom; large, established, well furnished, over-packed, dark, and warm. Grandma’s room was a palace in an apartment. There I had my bed. Two cool sheets and a warm blanket, and I slid in between them wearing my pressed night-gown and freshly combed hair, looking quite smart. I did not go to bed like a tired child getting ready for a night’s rest; I went to be as if I were attending an exciting event. Grandma would tuck me in and then not come back into the room until hours later. That’s when the event started. I fetched the films and the device and went under the sheets with my View-Master. Then I situated the front of the device peeping outside of the blanket towards the night lamp, and I remained inside being mesmerized by the images of places that weren't. Those were the most enjoyable instances of my life.