This is my house:
I have lived here since I was in 7th grade. It might have been 6th grade. Middle school, we'll put it that way. Most of my life was spent in this house here at 11045 Farragut Hills Blvd.
This is my room:
It's been decorated this way most of the time I've lived here. My mom made me a quilt with a unicorn on it when I was younger, and that quilt is now inside the duvet cover, because I had grown past it when we moved in here.
My mom also made my canopy from a sheet set that came with the duvet set and some cool fuzzy fabric that she had. She made the curtains from that same sheet set. I know, she's ridiculous.
My dad made a chest for me. It was originally supposed to hold a dollhouse that he was making for me from scratch, but it never got finished. The inside of this chest has held my letter box, one of my most prized possessions. In it is almost every card ever given to me, some playbills, some scripts, feedback on my theatrical competition pieces from high school, and notes that date back to middle school. I also kept my old notebooks with some of my first songs in them, written with my 5th grade best friend, Louise.
On top of the chest is another one of my favorite possessions: my vase of roses from my dad. He bought me a red fabric rose every single year for the start of school, and a white one for my senior year. 13 roses in all.
My bookshelf has, of course, some of my favorite books, as well as a shelf of knick knacks. I have some maracas that my parents brought me from Puerto Rico when I was a kid, ballet slippers that I got from a real ballerina whom I saw perform when I was still in dance (i.e., about a million years ago), my mom's old poodle "piggy" bank, two red toy cars from my car obsession phase which were later used as my Polly's cars (they were very stylish Pollys), a unicorn that twirls on its little stand (maybe it plays music?), a model VW bus from my VW bus obsession phase (my dad told me he bought me a VW bus, rude), and a few smaller things as well.
On top of my bookshelf I have two awards from high school theater that I'm incredibly proud of. One of them is an award for best actress in a play in which I performed my first dramatic role, "Trophies." The other is a plaque I received for the "Lovada P. Ferguson award for outstanding APAC senior." With it came a scholarship.
Above my bookshelf hangs my bulletin board, with a random assortment of things. I have a lot of photo strips from the theater photo booth, tickets to concerts and shows and sporting events, and these random little funny phrase things...they came from a calendar of bad headlines, funny typos, etc. One reads "Something went wrong in jet crash, expert says." I also have another excerpt from a similar calendar that is called "The worst poem ever Written."It truly is terrible.
My dresser mirror has some photos and cards stuck in the sides. A photo of a high school best friend's sister with her baby. A card from this guy another best friend and I met on a cruise (I don't know why I still have that...). Two cards from my best friend in the whole world, one of which is my favorite card I've ever received. It's a little business-card-sized piece of white paper that reads: Kelly, Salt of much T, face of much sex, I love you, and it's really cool how you are another year older and all. Happy birthday! -PJ
I have my CD stand, which is obsolete now, but still houses my favorite CDs from when I was younger, including a stunning collection of BSB CDs (don't judge!).
I have a lot of stuff hanging on my walls. Above my bed, a metal sign that says "Laugh," because it is my favorite thing to do and my favorite thing to make other people do. I have a framed photo with which I won a contest, a framed caricature of a best friend and me, a framed collage a friend made me before I went to college, and a collection of small cork boards that I painted for some wall decoration.
And on the floor lays my lovely purple shag rug which my mother gave to me after a theater performance (much cooler than flowers) and which served me well for two years in my dorm rooms at school.
And yet, this room hasn't be mine really for a few years. The bed is shockingly empty from what it once was, a mish mash of pillows large and small, an astounding number of stuffed animals, and my giant stuffed tiger. Many of my pictures came to school with me and have been replaced by what is currently on the walls. The dresser is empty. The closet is mostly empty. I brought the books I wanted to read again with me. It doesn't look like my room anymore, especially because yesterday I packed up most of it.
But still, it hurts to leave this room that has been with me in my childhood, adolescence, and into adulthood. It is where I had sleepovers, wrote songs and stories, played guitar, recovered from two surgeries, smiled, laughed, cried. It has been my safe haven. Here I am at 21, laying in this same bed with Tigger, my stuffed tiger I've had since I was born, near me always watching and protecting, and my cat, Tiny, curled up sleeping on my arm.
This is my last day and night here, and although I have a perfectly good home waiting for me in Chattanooga, it won't feel like home for a while. Not that it's really mine anyway. I'll be working and at school in Auburn this Summer. My younger brother is graduating tonight and going off to college in the Fall. It will be my parent's house.
I cried when I left this room and this house for college, but I still spent months at a time here my first two years of school. Now I'm mourning it again, but also mourning the loss of my childhood. This isn't the little girl's room that it once was. This little girl is all grown up, and I bid a fond farewell to my childhood room with the lime green and bright blue walls and move on into the next phase of my life.
