Staring into the popcorn ceiling above, glints of gold glitter caught my eye. That was a thing back then, covering popcorn ceilings with glitter, I guess.

It was like staring at the clouds. Relaxing and mesmerizing, my active imagination would find figures and scenes, building little vignettes in my mind.

Sometimes, in my younger years, it would be horses, birds, flowers and such. I would drift off to dream, laying on my grandparent’s sofa, while visiting. These fancies would follow me into my dreams.

As I aged, I still would stare into that ceiling on our visits. Sometimes it would be of a witch flying through the starry night skies. Other times it would be a romantic romp in the middle of the night that would fill my adolescent brain.

I still find myself looking up into the knocked down texture of my own ceilings though, seeking creative thoughts, but there are no more golden stars to light my way.

I wonder if the new owners kept that ceiling after all these years.