Six chairs and a pile of blankets
So we moved the chairs and piled the blankets and even though my knees hurt I crawled inside.
It was small. Too small for the three of us, at least, though for the little ones it was perfect. It was three chairs long, two chairs across, with every blanket from every closet – this one was her baptism gift and this one was from his grandma and this one matches his room and this one is her favorite. And though it was dark, it wasn’t scary, because it was filled with giggles and stuffed animals and two little kids.
Nothing’s different under the blankets, really – the same toys doing the same things, the same people in more uncomfortable positions – but then again everything’s different. It’s a house. A cave. A cove for whatever the kids are going to conjure up. It’s the same floor and the same chairs, but it’s a different angle. A different atmosphere.
And then, it was dinner time. We needed the chairs. So it all came down.
In response to the tears, I promised that I’d help build a bigger one. Tomorrow. In the basement, using the sectional sofa and the quilts. We’d be able to keep it all up. Occupy Basement, I guess you could say.
“Can we play Memory again? Like last time?”
Of course. Of course we can.
Forts, you guys. They still rule.