I remember building blanket forts as a child. When my parents weren’t looking, I borrowed chairs from the dining table and placed them back to back. Next, I draped a soft sheet over the chairs, creating a space just big enough for me and my sister. We made it even cozier by plopping plump pillows around for further fortification. As we sat beneath the billowy blanket ceiling, I looked around to admire our handiwork. “Ah, a place of our own,” I thought. “This is a space where I feel safe.”
It’s been over twenty years since my blanket fort days, and the act of sharing a “secret” hideaway still fills me with the same sense of comfort that it did when I was a tiny tyke.
It was Saturday in my studio apartment. We spent the sunlight in bed with white sheets draped over our naked bodies. With our legs tangled together and my tangled hair strewn across your bare chest, we shared several secrets and stories from our pasts. The sun silently listened to our tales until it yawned hues of orange, pink, blue, and purple, and the skies slowly darkened. Following the sun’s example, we began to wind down for the end of the day.
As we stepped into the steamy shower, hot water greeted me and gently massaged my tired body. I slid the shower door closed, and we were enveloped in wet warmth. Moments later, a melodious, familiar tune emerged from your lips: “I walked across an empty land. I knew the pathway like the back of my hand.” I swiped the soapsuds from my eyes and watched you passionately belt out one of my favorite songs: “Somewhere Only We Know”. Chin up, eyes closed, arms extended, you sang. You always put on the perfect shower shows for an audience of one. A smile slid across my face, and with excited eyes wide open, I interrupted (Sorry.) to tell you that that is one of my favorite songs.
I melted into your beautiful rendition of this song and imagined the dewy shower as “somewhere only we know”. Despite the vulnerability of being naked, your private concerts transformed this cleansing corner into a safe space, a new kind of blanket fort just big enough for two. It turns out you’re never too old for playdates or secret hideaways. And only you could turn a plain bathroom into a magical playground.