Where does your "happy place" reside?
As a child, the sandbox was my "happy place". This homemade fort that my father build for my sister and I housed an upstairs that served as fortress and lookout, and a downstairs that was a simple squared sandbox. The fact that it had a roof proved to provide a great shelter during the spring and autumn months when the rains would rush through the Pacific Northwest. During the hours of play, we would create the San Juan Islands complete with a tide (garden hose running full strength) until our father would come and put a stop to the fantasy. This box was the place I would pretend to be an owner of a pizza parlor. This box was the place where my dog would hide and I would walk past in a frantic search for her to find a three inch tail attached to a Boxer's sprawled body wagging; her version of hide-and-go-seek. This sandbox was filled with dreams of what adulthood might be like.
