What’s the Shed?

Pictured behind Mom Mom and her sisters (how posh are they btw?), is the shed. This is the only photographic record I could find of its existence.

Glad you asked. You’re sitting in it.

When I was about eight years old, my grandma (Mom Mom with the teeth), decided that we had so much stuff, that it was time we purchased a satellite storage shed. It was one of those pre-fab storage barns, with an exterior designed to look like you owned a second property on your property. This was the 90’s - long before tiny homes were hot, so the shed was missing all of the modern amenities. That did not stop me from fantasizing about decking the place out and hosting shed sleepover parties or maybe even moving into my own little teenage independent apartment (with my own entrance sans electricity because I’m rustic!).

Quick nosh: Why did a storage shed, made of only plywood, intended to store, have windows with screens?

The shed took up prime real estate in our backyard. It stood on a concrete platform over our pool at the top of its own little hill. It was shiny and white - my own little Sacre Coure of the deep valley. But for scuba tanks. First the storage goods moved in - my dad’s scuba gear and miscellany. Then I moved in. I used the other half of the shed as my truly unventilated but very imaginary Babysitter’s Clubhouse. The New Kids on the Block Poster up on the wall was as good as a business license, ask any of my peers. But as the years passed, the wood on the doors warped and stopped closing, more things piled on. The shed was overstuffed and cleaned out at least 5 times. My teenage self visited occasionally, if only to vandalize the walls, or to make some other unsavory memory. The spiders moved in, so did the mice.

So what’s the shed? It is the ultimate vault. Holder of things. Keeper of secrets.

I know what you’re thinking. Yes, this is probably going to be a weird sleepover.