On a Saturday or Sunday afternoon when I was about six years old, my parents took me and my little sister to look at a plot of land they were considering purchasing.

The land was hosted in a very impressive neighborhood. I remember being glued to the window of the backseat of the Volvo station wagon, driving up into what my parents were describing to be the epitome of suburban accomplishment. When our family arrived, a very swanky real estate man came out of a trailer to show my parents around what may or may not become the place of their future home.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, my parents were on the cliff of their marriage. Our family was living in a rental house, and they had been considering to either go through a divorce or buy land and build a new home together in effort to stay in their marriage. The salesman showed my parents around the land as my sister and I ran around the lot, and we eventually ended up in the trailer where the man reviewed timeframes and prices with my parents.

With a serious case of boredom, I decided to crawl behind a filing cabinet in the trailer and hide. I ended up being in there past the point of their meeting, and when I realized that the darkness and silence extended beyond just behind the back of the filing cabinet, I crept out into the trailer. I then realized I was alone.

I began to panic, and ran to the door, but couldn't open it. I was locked inside. I could see the Volvo pulling out of the lot through the cheap paper blinds. I started to cry and yell for my family, thoughts racing through my young mind that I would be locked, and maybe stranded forever in an empty lot trailer. Everything is blank for me after that.

It's safe to say now writing this as a 28 year old that I was not stranded, and did not die in there. I did however have ongoing nightmares of being locked in a trailer throughout my childhood after that, and still to this day can not figure out what I could not shake that experience or get over looking at a trailer on an empty lot the same way again.