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This is all about my old loft bed. ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!

Mine

Wood, screws, teeth marks. Three things, thousands of memories. The first time I saw it was in the store, clean of any marks made. It smelled like wood. My sister and I each got one, one of the ones for children. I chose, I remember, and my sister agreed. A man brought them to our house in a big truck. It looked like a giant square box. It felt like we were moving. It said something about furniture on it.   

The first night was the best. Audrey and I climbed up our ladders that seemed like giant bean stocks. It smelled like wood. We shared a room. When we were mad we would stand on the very tips of our toes to reach the edge so that we could hang sheets to make forts. She wrote our names on the bottom. I don’t know why.      

American Girls lived underneath so we could make sure nothing happened. We said good night and tucked them in so that they would be warm. They were real to us. I used to think the climbed up and played next to me while I was asleep. We played with them so much I can’t really remember anything else I did at that age.

Mom or dad would come in and kiss us goodnight way up high, the American Girls way down low.  I used to bite it. It smelled like wood. Sometimes my parents would catch me and tell that if I wanted to get a different one without rails. I said no. I love this one.

My stuffies would get to sleep up there with me. All of them, until I got too big and they got too many. They each had names, Honey Bear, Moon Face, Spot, Chocolate, Choco for short, and Ana May. And many, many more. Ana May was my favorite. My grandma gave her to me because she said we look alike. I used to tell everything to her. She would listen to me. Sometimes, she was the only one.

She wasn’t my only friend. My friends would sit on it with me saying I wish I had one like this or This thing is as tall as a tree. It smelled like wood. We would talk for hours. We would gossip, plan, or just play with something.

            My bed was there for me when even Ana May wasn’t. It was there when my grandpa died and when my cousins were born. Through the good and the bad. The easy and the hard. Good, Bad, Easy, Hard. It was mine. I grew out of a lot of other things like American Girls, Forts, and sitting on my bed for hours. Whether it was just me or a couple friends, it was always my place to be me.