Stuck In My Room

When I was a little girl, we lived in a house (in a now really bad part of town!) that was old and had a historic charm to it. I think it was built sometime in the 30’s or 40’s. It was beautiful and creaky and quirky and we loved it.

One day, I go into my room in the morning to change out of my pajamas and get started on my schoolwork. I close the door to me and my sister’s room, change real fast and then open the door…except that the door didn’t budge. I jiggled the handle, I yanked on the door, I braced my leg up against the doorframe and pulled with all my strength.

Of course I’m panicking at this point! I start screaming for my mom who comes running and tries to get to me from the other side. She tries and tries to pry the door open but it doesn’t budge.

So there I am, stranded in my room, waiting to get out. My mom calls my dad and tells me he’ll be home as soon as he can to save me. At the tender age of seven, being stranded in my room for any amount of time was dreadful. I wasn’t in there for more than an hour, probably less, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like days, months, years had passed me by. My room was a cell and I was going crazy. I paced the room, I gazed longingly out the window; how long had I been there, how much longer would I be stuck. It was torture!

I remember very distinctly that my mom heated up some banana bread and slipped it on a plate underneath the crack of my bedroom door and talked with me from the other side. It was the best, damn, banana bread I’d ever had!

Finally, dad comes home. I spy him walking in the door from my bedroom window. He tries so hard to get the door open; I hear him fiddling from the other side. Finally, he speaks to me through the door and tells me to get away, to go sit on my bed as far away from the door as possible. Next thing I know, he fire-man kicks the door down and I am freed.

It was so beautiful!

That weekend I think his project was to replace the door or something like that.


Isn’t it funny how an hour spent in our room with a pile of books sounds so pleasant now? You could take a nap or read or just sit there listening to good music with your eyes closed–but as a kid, it was the worst thing in the world!

How times change.


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