My father pulled in the drive with a surprise- my old armoire. My childhood bedroom was in the attic, a heavily dormered room with no closets that was freezing in the winter and an inferno in summer. Like so many things remembered, I would have sworn the wardrobe was larger; in my memory, it loomed and beckoned. I spent many hours tucked inside hidden amongst my clothes and dolls dreaming of the could be's and the what if's and the when I grow up's.
I couldn't help but venture back in, not expecting to find anything other than dust, but some spaces never lose their magic. Though I had to duck my head this time, I found what I was looking for; the mysterious lamp post in the middle of a dark and snowy wood. I drew a picture of it for you, in case you are too old and cynical to see such things for themselves anymore.