I was sitting at my kitchen bar, and for no reason what so ever, my memory was jogged. I had the feeling of remembering a very crucial part of my childhood; things that feel like a former life and also like I could reach out and touch them. And I thought, how could I have ever forgotten that in the first place?

When Joey and I were little we kept a large, flat board stored between the couch and the wall. It slid behind the back, concealed from view. We used it to color on when we were in the living room, which was carpeted. I think it originally came around as a mat for play-doh so we wouldn’t get crumbs in the carpet. But once it was there we used it for lots of things. It was such an important part of our play when we built forts or set up hot wheels. It was the starting point of many imaginative days.

One side of the board had small ridges on it that made it uneven to color on, but when you’re laying on the carpet the smoothness of your strokes don’t really matter. It also had a small chip out of one side so it wasn’t an even rectangle. There were marker lines drawn across it and play-doh stuck in the cracks.

The last time I was home I had to check to see if the board was still stored behind the blue couch. Mom said she’d just recently moved it. I’m not sad it’s gone, it wasn’t an actual toy, but I really did get such a tranquil peace of mind remembering it. I simply felt transported back in time thinking “Remember how we used to color on that board…”