Back in the Cupboard

There's something about a small space

That always makes me feel secure

Nothing coming in or going out

Only room for me

That may be why I spent so much of my time

In a cupboard or a closet

When I was but a child

***

Harry Potter in his cupboard under the stairs

Didn't make me feel sad or sorry for him

He was in my favorite element

Safe and warm in a small space

I felt a little envious when I saw him there

Book or movie character though he may be

I coveted his cupboard

****

I missed my little space:

The basement cupboard that housed the furnace

And the water heater

And me

Hidden away for hours each day

Alone in my own little world

Reading books, writing stories

Creating little chapbooks

Filled with my own artwork

Creating hand-made greeting cards

Daydreaming about the world outside the closed door

Trying to figure out my place in it

But content to stay inside

Alone

Almost always alone

***

I ran away from home one day

And when I returned

No one had a clue that I'd been gone

That's the dark magic of the cupboard

I disappeared myself so well

I wasn't even missed when I really disappeared

Hard lesson learned

I forced myself out of the closet and into the world

I wasn't ready for it

It wasn't ready for me

I've regretted it

But I got out and lived in it anyway

More's the pity

***

The world is much too big

Did you know that?

And one day I just couldn't face it

I looked into my father's closet

I confronted the suits and ties, the jeans and shirts

The dress clothes and the casual clothes and the shoes

I slipped inside that small space

I went in there with all that is left of him

Things that have haunted me

Things that have taunted me:

"Do something with us! He's gone!"

I closed the door

I sat on the floor in the dark and wept

How I do miss my father!

***

But miraculously, I felt safe

I felt comfortable

I was comforted by the small space

And the smell of Dad that lingers

In all the small spaces of cupboards and closets

And the corners of dresser drawers

I put on his old, battered slippers

I came out of the closet

I wear them, though they're too big for me

I shuffle around in them

They comfort me when I'm alone

Out in the world, again

Surrounded by the too-big and the too-many and the too-much

Almost always alone

But I have his slippers

And I'll keep them forever