The Fortress of Solitude.

In 1995 my parents built a house. They let me choose which bedroom I wanted of the three upstairs. I choose the smallest one, because I was convinced that I would eventually move to the one in the basement.

The basement was called The Fortress of Solitude among my friends. It was the scene of countless sleepovers, games of pool, movie marathons and hours and hours spent playing Legos. There is no doubt that of all the hours I spent in that house in the past 25 years, the vast majority of them where spent in the basement.

It was a versatile place. The summer I was dumped for the first time, I cried and listened to Paul Simon's Like a Rock album on repeat - the basement was my safe space. It served as the sound stage and film studio for so many home made epics, like the Storming of the Bastille. It was a killing field of a war zone during the Lego-GI Joe-Playmobile conflicts of the late 90s. It was there at my surprise 18th birthday party took place.

Even after I moved out in college, the basement was still my space. When I would return home, it was where I would go. Every party thrown in that house had parents upstairs and kids in the basement. The basement was always there.

I finally got to move into the basement bedroom in the two months after I got married. The basement was our first apartment. I even got to finally paint the room to a blue that I chose. I moved away to Boston and then to Kentucky and then back. When my marriage ended the basement was there as a nursery and home for my kids and their Mom. My son went through a period where he would fight bed time with all of his might. So many evenings walking around that pool table, singing to him as he tried to cry himself to sleep.

The Lego table returned and my kids played on it then. The Fisher Price castle that had been the set for the Bastille became a castle again. The storage area turned into a kitchenette. My kids played in the shower that once was the preferred after soccer practice locker room. They moved out and the basement waited once again.

In 2008, my financial house of cards collapsed. I got laid off. I was in so much debt. I got dumped. I returned to the basement again. The bedroom was set up with two bunk beds for the kids and a twin bed for me. The little TV that hung in the corner had a VCR. We watched so many movies before bed, Disney classics, Star Wars and more. I set up my computer as a wine rack and searched for jobs. I "cooked" us meals in the kitchenette. We played so much pool.

Again, I moved away and the basement returned to the place I would go when I visited. Each of my children got to have sleepovers there with their friends. They both wanted one more this summer but Covid took that possibility away.

Today, I moved the pool table out of the basement. The house is devoid of most furniture. What is left was put here by the home stager for photos. The house has been sold.

Today I stood in my safe space and cried. Tears of pain. Tears of happiness. So much. Memories. Ghosts and visions hang in every inch of that basement. So many times that basement was there for me, my family, my children.

The basement was always a way that my parents could show me they loved me. It was always there as a refuge. From the dreams of pretend, Legos and camcorder movies. It created safety for a broken hearted teen, foolish newlyweds, broken hearts again. It was there - all the way through to the laughter of my kids and their friends.

I cried for the last time in my safe space today. It is empty. Soon another family will fill it with their own memories. The Fortress of Solitude will now belong to someone else.