Magical Places

Uki’s hide-away

There once was a magical place, an unclaimed space between gardens. Fences delineated the properties around this 3x3ft no one’s land. It was open only on one side, our garden. Why were the boundaries of the three properties coming together not drawn more consistently? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

This was my hide-away, a place where no one was allowed to enter unless they had my permission. As best I could at seven years of age, I had roughly nailed and tied together with string what pieces of wood and scrap I could find, to partially obstruct the entrance. Only another child of my slim build could crawl in. A large neighboring pine tree provided a messy but somewhat trustworthy roof. The furniture inside consisted of a small bench and a flat-surfaced stump of wood. The occasional guest was served tea from my miniature porcelain tea set.

Finally I had a space that neither my controlling mother nor my older sister could enter. My family respected my “little camp”, as it was called, and did not try to intrude. I felt like a queen holding court over my dolls one day, Robin Hood at peace in his private compound the other day.All things change. Over the years, I literally outgrew the space. Wooden boards fell down and did not get replaced. Too cramped now, child’s play, judged the pre-teen.

Does my hide-away still exist? Maybe. Or the neighbors, in good orderly German fashion, redrew the property lines and erected more consistent, continuous fences.I am grateful for my little hide-away memories. A tiny bit of disorder or lack of structure can be a wonderful gift for a child.