The Secret Room

My memories begin when I was still an only-child and my parents rented a small house on a quiet street in Woolwich, Maine. There isn't much detail I can recall about the inside of the house, I have only vague memories of my bedroom, but I do remember that there was a secret room behind the garage. Thinking about it now, I'm not so sure that it was secret, but that is precisely what my three year old mind decided to call it.

I used to play in the backyard with the other kids from the neighborhood and one day I discovered a window that didn't belong to any of the rooms inside the house. Ok, so I was three, maybe one of the other kids asked me about the window! When I asked about it, my father had said the landlord locked up that room and kept the key. He said that there were personal items inside that were off-limits to tenants. I remember pondering those words for days. What could be inside? A pony?? No, surely it would need to eat. What could it be I thought? Soon, wonder turned to doubt and I thought maybe the landlord hadn't locked it at all and maybe, just maybe, it was a room where Santa kept all my presents! Curiousity got the best of me and I just had to know.

I don't remember how I did it, whether I got a neighborhood kid to give me a boost or if I somehow managed to put a chair in front of the window, but one day I finally got a peek! I pressed my tiny face against the cold glass and peered at the contents of the small room. I noticed many unimpressive items that all seemed dark, dull, dingy and dusty. I saw items like tires and old furniture, but alas, I saw something bright and exciting. It was red and stood about three feet tall with a glass globe on top. Inside the globe was hundreds of small round multi-colored balls. GUMBALLS! I knew it! It was a place where Santa kept my presents! I couldn't contain my excitement, but I had to pretend that I didn't know. I would just have to wait for Santa to deliver my very own gumball machine!

That year, Christmas came and went and although there were many wonderful gifts under the tree, much to my surprise there was no gumball machine. I asked my father about the secret room again, and his story was the same, so I told him about peeking in the window and about my idea that Santa kept my toys there. With a laugh, he assured me that it was not the case. So with a shrug, I sat down to play with all the other wonderful toys and presents I had received forgetting about what I had seen.

Although that was over 25 years ago, I still think of the secret room whenever I see a gumball machine in a supermarket or a shopping mall and the memory takes over with adult wonder. How did my young mind come up with such grand ideas?