My bedroom floor
I grew up in a starter home my parents bought when I was six months old. Three children would join the family later, but I was their first and only when we moved in. It was a small cheap house by 21st century standards, one of the 'little boxes' thrown up in Los Angeles after WWII.
I remember the floor of my bedroom. It had cowboys on horses, lassos and little doggies. Today I would probably see the linoleum as cheap and dingy, starting to crack and the art work second rate and kitschy. But for my young self, it was an ever-present invitation to dream of the Old West, Big Sky country and adventure.