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Photo credit: Nina Matthews Photography / Foter.com / CC BY

Carve out 7 minutes to respond to:

Tell me about a time when you invented something.

Does creating a child in my belly count? The time I made up the most elaborate game based on baseball, but involved pennies, had a baseball diamond, and it was small enough to play in my room–does that count? Or what about when I created a whole world through a key hole?

I will start with this one. We lived in an old house. Built a bazillion years ago. It was made to have two full apartments: one upstairs and one downstairs. We lived in the whole thing. Downstairs was my bedroom, which happened to be the biggest room in the house. In my room there was an enormous and elaborate sliding door. Solid oak–ornate, but it wouldn’t budge. It required a skeleton key to unlock. We had those, but not the right one. I remember peaking through the key hole and being surprised by not recognizing anything on the other side. I was peering into another world. One that was tiny, cobwebb-y, and a little unformed.

I stepped away consumed with the possibility of this magic key hole. I raced around to the other side of the door. It looked normal. I raced back to my original vantage point, thinking for sure this mirage would be gone. I closed my right eye and peered in. It was still there. The magic hadn’t ended…

I still dream of this place–this in-between place that exists only in the width of an old, wooden, sliding door.

from: January, 10, 2013 ~ Oh, dearest Autumn, how I love being in your writing circles. This is me loving you, by posting your prompts and my responses. Thank you for your grace, your love, and your being you.

Photo credit: Nina Matthews Photography / Foter.com / CC BY

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