When I was much, much younger, I “discovered” a “secret” door in my house. I thought I was so smart and mysterious—so much so that I told my cousin of my amazing discovery, saying how no one else knew about it.

I’m fairly certain, most, if not all, of my family members had known about the door at the time.

Of course, as a little kid, I imagined multiple reasons for the door being there (now I know it was just an alternative exit).

I used the staircase to the door as a hideout, thinking since no one knew the door existed, they wouldn’t ever be able to find me. Of course, they did know the door existed, but the small space was very, very useful when playing hide-and-seek with my friends and cousins because they really didn’t know the door existed. They never managed to find me and when I finally got bored of hiding, I would sneak out and up behind them to scare them.

One day, I finally decided to tell one of friends of the “secret door.” We went out through the door and my friend was so excited because we thought we were the only ones who knew, but when we tried to open the door up again, it was locked!

So, it turned out, you could only open the door up from the inside. We were forced to head to the front door and get our parents to open the door for us. So much for secrecy.

Anyway, this just takes me back to the time when I still held so much wonder for the world and thought every discovery was special and just for me.

I miss that.