If These Walls Could Talk

I am writing this from my bedroom ... well, it was my bedroom in the 80's, at least. It is still the same color scheme that I wanted it to be - and it looks pretty good, truth be told. But it is not my bedroom anymore. It hasn't been for ... my word, over 2 decades? Yow. That's wild to consider.

It seems that some of the rules that were active twenty plus years ago no longer apply. The "no holes in the walls" rule, for instance, is CLEARLY being violated by the posting of a calendar, a map of local fishing areas, various important receipts and licenses, and of course the fake Bill Clinton 3 dollar bill that my father thinks may be the funniest thing he's ever seen. There's a computer in here, too. It wasn't a rule that there couldn't be one in here, but computers back then were not in my vision at the time. I've noticed there isn't a phone, and that would have NEVER worked for me as a kid. (I was a teen-age girl - phones very much WERE in my vision.) The dogs are allowed not just inside the room but on the bed - unheard of back then.

This room has served me well. It has comforted me through sicknesses of the heart and the body, it has seen me recover from embarrassments and celebrate triumphs. I have slammed these doors as much as I've gazed from these windows. I've sat in this room to gather my courage as much as I've sat here regretting my boldness. I've cursed and prayed here. These walls have served as my prison and my protection.

I'll be creating a new version of my bedroom very shortly. While I won't be taking any of the material things that can be found here, the emotional lessons ... they are always with me. Hard-earned, at times - but more valuable than I'd ever dreamed they would be.