A Summer Happy Place - 1. A Summer Happy Place

I open the door, and I'm immediately transported out of my depression. I look around at all the familiar sights. I can close my eyes and see it all whether I'm here or not. With my eyes closed, I smell the aroma of recently eaten snacks. I turn left, fresh popcorn assaults my olfactory system. To the right, the strawberry Twizzlers I ate last week. The faint aroma of oatmeal raisin cookies is present. I stop to count things in my mind's eye. Six of one thing. Two of another. And then two of yet two more items.

And the six. The hundreds of individual items contained on each of those. Each one containing things I can use to find myself in other places, other worlds, other times. The familiar names adorning each of them. Things for every man, woman, and even child. Kings and queens represented. Lords and ladies.

I can go all over the United States. To New York, to Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Florida, even other countries. Norway is over there. A little France and Germany scattered here and there.

And two items, with their corresponding two items that can take me anywhere. One is limited. I can only go to a few places with it. But they are far-flung. France again, England, Texas, India. That item is unfortunately not the happiest item in the room. But it is necessary. It pays for the rest. Ah, but it's cousin. Yes, that's the one thing in this room that makes me the happiest. It can take me anywhere I want to go. I can lead others to new places with it. Anywhere and anything the imagination can visualize is possible with that one item.

But, alas, it is not a room I can spend every minute of every day in. That would garner suspicion. What am I doing in there so much? A question I'd prefer not to answer. Nay, a question I'd prefer not be asked. The room is an escape, but not one to be abused. Eight or nine hours a day, but rarely on weekends. Another point of suspicion if at other times I spent more than the minute or two it takes me to use what is in a smaller, adjoining room.

The room is filled, but not crowded. It is full, but not messy. I can overlook the pet hair. It seems impossible to prevent its entry, even with the door closed all the time. That is just one of the things here that doesn't belong. Possessions I'd prefer to be elsewhere. Others infringing on my personal space. But they're neatly packed. In the way but not uncomfortably so.

My thoughts once again turn to the vehicle of my escape from the real world. Yet another item that cannot be used overmuch. My time spent there must be rationed. Time in this room needs to be spent with its cousin, the one that takes me to a few necessary places. Yes, most of my time here needs to be spent using that item. Although, I cheat a little. I take time away to use my escape vehicle. I need that escape more and more every day, but I must avoid using it too much. Much like a drug, overuse is not a good thing and can lead to troubles.

But it is impossible to ignore this item. It takes me away. It lets me take you away. Oh, the people I've met using it. Granted, they are not real, but I get attached to many of them regardless. But there are real people that I can reach as well. As real as you or me. Truth be told, you are each, one of those people. And the special person I can be with in a sense. Fortunately, I have another avenue that can be used to be close to that person. It is much more portable than the one thing in the room that takes me away. I have made it an extension of the items in this room and carry it with me almost everywhere I go. I can be in contact with tis special person with a moment's notice. A kind word, a joke, a simple hello or goodnight.

These things make me happy. These things help keep the depression at bay. Not just in the summer, but all through the year. I can physically visit beaches, mountains, even faraway lands, but none of that compares to using one of the many items in that special room. You may have guessed what some of these items are. I haven't hidden their identities too well. I've even hinted at specific items. Child, King, Lord. Places the originators of those items are from. England, Los Angeles, Norway, all over the United States.

Those hundreds of individual items? Books, of course. Burroughs and Crichton take me to other worlds. Child all over the United States. Connelley to Los Angeles. Deaver to New York. King to places that may not even exist but are real enough for the time immersed in those books. Lashner to Philadelphia, Nesbo to Norway. Patterson to New York and Florida. Paolini and Tolkien to fantastical worlds where dragons exist.

There is the work laptop and its monitor that are the required items in this room, my office. I have to work. I like having a roof over my head and food in my belly. As I'm sure you all do. It is a necessary evil. But it has benefits as well. It is the reason I can spend any time in this room at all. I work here. I feed my imagination here.

But yet, that all pales in comparison to my laptop and cell phone. These things allow me to create places I can take myself. Places I can take all of you. They let me communicate with a special person. Someone I long to be with but cannot be with at this time. As a poem I've penned for this very site says, there's something in the way. But nothing lasts forever. I will write until I am unable to. I don't believe I would still be a resident of this earth if I hadn't found my desire to write. To entertain. Maybe this particular piece doesn't quite meet the entertainment level as the rest, but like all my writing, it keeps me going. That, and the hope of being with someone.

The End