My Attic: Fuzzy Like a Childhood Memory

One of the first positive memories I have which impacted my life is my attic in my house back at home. I wish now that I could stay there forever. There being that time of innocence in my life and there being in that attic where no one could hurt me. My attic made such a strong impression on me because it was no ordinary attic. My family converted it into a sort of playroom. It was filled with pillows, blankets, and giant bean bags. These were no ordinary pillows either, but a mix and match of all sorts of crazy shapes and textures. Just to give you an example, I specifically remember one that we had which was a corduroy covered square pillow which had two big arm pieces attached to either side. Even though as a young child you really aren't faced with many responsibilities, it still felt like I could get away from the chaos and hard work of dealing with my two brothers and family. I could go up there any time and cover myself in blankets and pillows and feel at rest. The room had a very soft quality to it between the literal softness in the blankets and pillows covering the floor to the visual softness of the single yellow light that dimly lit the space in which I spent so much time. The space could also be so easily recognized because of its musty attic smell. Not a bad thing by any means, but just very unique. This smell is now something that when I smell, I instantly recognize and identify it with my attic and my childhood. I think the way we designed the room completely changed my outlook on attics and similar spaces. I think most people would see a basement, attic, cellar or the likes to be seen as eerie, unsanitary, rat infested, and dust covered. Places that people do not want to spend time. When I think of an attic I think of just about the opposite of this since my attic was such a secure place in my younger years and I often find myself still wanting to spend time in these areas simply because of this transition in design my parents offered me.