2013-01-20

Mom Before Mom: Here in My Bedroom

Funny how something as simple as a bedroom can make you feel secure or safe or comfortable

Funny how trying to remember and describe your childhood room can bring back all those feelings and more.

For me, my childhood room moved around quite a bit, its amazing how each change in room so clearly punctuated a different part or phase of my life.

My first room, shared with my brother, in our bunk beds.  It was a true little kids room, with a tiny wooden table (on which my brother danced and subsequently broke his nose), hand made personal piggy banks for each of us, and a closet which when necessary turned into a time machine, rocket, or fort.  I was 6 or so when that shared room became mine alone.  I remember clearly my beautiful white canopy bed with the bright fabric, the matching desk and dresser, yellow paint and fun wall paper.

From there my room split into two, there was the shared room in the little one bedroom apartments that I lived in with my father and brother.  Those living conditions weren't the most spacious, but we learned how to make do - and fit enough clothes for all of us in very very limited spaces.  There is no tour of these rooms as they were simple little shared spaces with personal items from three different people squeezed in and around each one.

Around that time I also had a room at my mother's house - this was my largest room, and the one that I was able to personalize in my own taste the most.  This was my room from the time I was 12 until I moved to college when I was 18.  I covered the walls with posters from the classic movies that I loved.  (Singing in the Rain, Wizard of OZ, and I remember my young cousin being terrified of my King Kong poster).  The room was furnished with my mother's old white lacquer furniture with more than enough space for me.  The key piece in this room was an old wooden desk that my parents had found, they stripped it and painted it for me shortly before my senior year of high school, they picked a bright cranberry pink with gold pulls, and I LOVED it!!  My bed was a "huge" full sized bed, with a little bed side table on either side.  I filled the drawers of those tables with books and journals and tapes.

During the same time frame I had moved into yet another 1 bedroom apartment with  my father and my brother.  This apartment was a little more fun than the previous ones though, being a part of my church's gym and right above the basket ball court. Living here was fun, we had a basket ball court, pool table, and rec room that was at our disposal. My church was my community and I was always there to be a part of it, I was a part of it.  But to top it off, my father took the giant walk in closet in the tiny apartment, painted it purple and furnished it.  There I had my very tiny very favorite little room.  It was like a secret little nook built just for me.  It was too narrow for traditional furniture so in addition to the simple metal framed twin bed, I had a wooden shelf made from an old wooden shipping crate and a tall narrow dresser purchased from a local consignment store (I still have this dresser, it sits in my closet now).  My little room also had an amazing little sky light - I could crack it open in the summer and get fresh air, and lie under it and watch the stars.


For better or worse these were my rooms, there were a few of them, and there was something special about each one.  I tried writing this post once already, infusing each different space with the emotions that each one brought, and the changes in life each one saw, but no one wants to read that much.  Instead I've left you here with a little snapshot of a little bit of me.