A Place to Think

I recently made a trip home to attend a friend’s wedding and visit some old pals (see right) and was reintroduced to some of my favorite places in Nevada.

In-N-Out Burger and the closet at my parents’ house.*

Don’t worry, my parents aren’t the Dursleys. Nobody call CPS. Growing up, my parents let me decorate the walls of my bedroom, but only to a certain point, and once I reached oh, about thirteen, I wanted more. I’ve always loved words – the power of them, the way they make you feel – and I knew even from a young age that sometimes words are too big and unstable to stay locked up. They need to be free. They need to root and grow and climb the walls. Literally.

And being the sweet, respectful child I was, I let them. In my closet.

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