As I grew older, my safe place in the closet became a refuge from the outside

world. It was a sanctuary where I could escape from the chaos and noise of

everyday life. The darkness enveloped me, providing a sense of comfort and

solitude.

The small bench and shelf with the radio became my companions in this secret

hideaway. I would sit on the bench, listening to the music that filled the airwaves.

Each song marked the passing of time, and I found solace in the familiar melodies

and lyrics.

I often wondered why my parents never questioned my frequent retreat to the

closet. Did they not notice my prolonged absences? Did they not sense my need

for a safe place? Perhaps they were preoccupied with their own worries and

concerns, unaware of the silent struggles I faced.

My safe place became a haven where I could escape from the pressures of school,

the expectations of others, and the uncertainties of life. It was a space where I

could be myself, free from judgment or criticism. I found comfort in the darkness,

as it shielded me from the harsh realities of the world.

Occasionally, when my safe place in the closet felt too confining, I sought refuge

under my bed. It provided a different kind of escape, a hidden nook where I could

curl up and retreat into my own thoughts. But that is a story for another time.

Looking back, I realize that my safe place in the closet served as a coping

mechanism, a way for me to navigate the complexities of childhood and find a

sense of security. It may have seemed unusual to others, but for me, it was a

lifeline.

Eventually, as I grew older and gained more confidence, I outgrew the need for

my safe place. It served its purpose, helping me navigate the early years of my

life. But the memories of those years spent in the darkness of the closet will

always remain a part of me, a reminder of the power of finding solace in

unexpected places.