Crawl Space

Hey campers, scoot in through this hole in the wall. Welcome to the crawl space. I’m just putting in some insulation the builder forgot 50 years ago. It’s snug in here but not too dusty, and I haven’t heard a mouse in weeks. Yes, I am a bit tall and old to be doing this, but I actually kind of like it. And I’m glad you’re with me here.

I have a friend who spent a lot of time in her bedroom closet growing up, just to escape her crazy family. She’d read or do homework or just sit quietly where, for a moment anyway, everything was calm and unsurprising.

When I was a kid we had a tri-level house with a three-foot-tall space beneath the living room and dining room and kitchen; I could get in there through a louvered door under a bookshelf. It was dry and clean with a concrete floor and cinder block walls and lights on the ceiling. It also was warm in the winter because it was home to a furnace that, unlike many of us, was made to thrive with limited headroom.

I set up a train set, and did chemistry experiments, and made radios in that crawl space, but mostly I spent time in there insulated from noise and nuttiness. Just like bacteria and frogs and vines, kids choose the best environment available under the circumstances.

My kids are as old now as I was then. I teach them simple rules like heat goes up, and water flows down, and things need ventilation lest they rot, and that everyone is entitled to private space and time. They teach me about friendship and trust and simple warm connection.

In this crawl space I’m installing new insulation where it belongs: On the walls that separate inside warmth from outside cold. I don’t need to spend more time in here than that. But I’ve learned that it can take years to remove old insulation.

--WF