18Jul Own childhood home
In my own childhood home, a tunnel-like closet connected my parents’ bedroom to the one I shared with my sister. The closet was great for hide-and-seek or stashing secret treasures among boxes of who-knows-what. It was popular with little friends who came to play. Scrambling through the dresses and shoes with a playmate was like exploring Tom Sawyer’s cave or the tombs of the pharaohs.
My Grandmother Daisy’s cherry wood, cedar-lined trunk was another childhood nook that held mystery for me. It always stood at the end of her bed in her basement apartment holding the few material keepsakes of her long life—elegant turn-of-the-century feathered hats and flapper dresses with matching beaded bags. The contents have disappeared, but the trunk itself has become a prized possession, now used for storing my own collection of costumes from around the world. It also holds several lengths of filmy, lacy fabrics I plan to sew into artsy pillows someday. The trunk is a niche for memories and dreams alike.
I wished for nooks and crannies for my own children once they came along, but the closest they knew were antique armories, among the most necessary pieces of furniture for people of past centuries. These were large cupboards for hanging clothes and storing linens that often had intriguing details inside—sometimes cubbyholes or false backs for hiding valuables. It was through one of these that C. S. Lewis’s characters entered the world of Narnia in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; perhaps my girls imagined Lewis’s stories better for the large Armour in our home that always held paper and art supplies, books, and stacks of magazines.
Niche is one of my favorite words, not only because it fits neatly on the tip of my tongue, but because I love what it implies. Have you found your niche in life?Do you market your services oraproduct to a particular niche?
One delightful niche for me is that one stair “in the middle of the stairs” that appears in the lovely poem “Halfway Down” by A. A. Milne:
I’m not at the bottom,
I’m not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where I always stop.
