When we had our house renovated to extend my adoptive sister’s room when she got married I just asked for one thing: a secret door. I remembered how amazed I was when I saw my cousin had one and wanted one for myself. I wanted one to lead to my moms room so that I didn’t have to knock on their door in the middle of the night to use their bathroom or if I woke up and was too afraid to sleep by myself. She agreed to add it — it’s a small square door that leads to my parents walk-in closet.

Today, I had to crawl in that little door again so I can check my dad’s bathroom. My room’s ceiling had a leak and so did the bigger dining room, and I figured that my dad’s bathroom was directly above those areas. He had the key to the room and was staying at my adoptive sister’s place and I needed to check his bathroom.

I went through nostalgia while crawling in that small space. I still knew what to move and how to get all the clothes out of the way for me to fit. The only difference was, when I stepped out into their room, mom wasn’t there on her bed sleeping, I couldn’t hear my dad snoring, the air conditioning wasn’t turned on, and it was morning.

What I’d give to sleep beside her one more time.

 

[No picture for this post this time, I wasn’t able to take a photo cause I didn’t bring my phone upstairs with me when I had to go in and It’s filled with stuff from the evil witch aunt’s house. So I decided to do it real quick so I won’t be blamed of taking her stuff again]

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