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Kiwi Crocus
06 January 2009 @ 08:55 am
On one level, this is hard. Intensely difficult. In another, it is simple. Surprisingly easy.

I don't know what is driving me to do it, specifically, but I am taking down my room far more than I have to. I'm going through everything I own to get rid of what I don't want/need. I wanted to have a few extra thumb tacks to bring to England for board decoration. I took down a few posters.

I took down a few more. My container is now eerily close to half full, coming from having around four left within. A select few I have taken down to possibly put back up in England. The majority have served their time and I am moving on from them; their decorator jobs have been completed.

It is both a painful lurch and amusing tug to see smudge marks above old poster lines, from DDR times in my room with a loud and active sweaty brother and entertained pals. It is grounding and perplexing to know that my influence in this room is a rainbow escaping a pot of gold above the door, a lower wall of deep indigo surrounding the room and a handful of thumb print marks in the walls and steepled ceilings.

I have spent a lot of time in this room. I used to come in when Grammie lived here to marvel at her miniature fridge. She fed me cookies and I would waddle back across the hall to the room I shared with my pesky but lovable younger brother. Apparently on my first grade teacher's urging, I was finally allowed it as a room of my own. It was pink and white. It grew into a room of white felines and unicorns, dogs and horses, rainbows (with the help of my father's painting) and fantasy. It was my own little fantasy world during a rocky but beautiful life time, treading through medicines and talkative others when my voice was so soft but held surprising wisdom and thought.

I remember many of the fantasies I've held in this room. Thoughts of size-changing kittens who would come visit me and be my friends, then escape once more through the power plugs upon entrance of another. I picture my bed, floral coated and large eventually, coming out into the center of the room. My room felt huge to me. The ceiling always towered above my head, for once not because I was SHORT, but because it was TALL--tall like a steeple, like those rhymes we heard in school. I remember a bookcase, hand-me-down but dashing, filled with fantasy stories of princesses, unicorns, horses, nature and friendship.

I remember getting ready for soccer in my doorway, grumbling as I velcroed on shin pads and yanked up socks and tied down laces. I remember friends prancing about the upstairs with me. I remember occasionally sitting in my closet when the world was a scary place and the fears had slipped beyond even my faithful door, even pre-lock.

It has been a lovely room. A great companion. It has been my fantasy realm up to my lair. "Kiwi's Lair." Or tower. Regardless, it was mine. My own little space in reality, yet so far out of it that it was comfortable to me, a dreamer of the highest degree.

In my mind and heart it will always be my room. As I sit it in now I see my closet and remember it from a moment ago, cleared out as I separated what I desired from what I could pass on. I see the growing "give away" pile collecting beside it. I see a chair stacked on top of a chair (both picked up from the side of the road), I see a corner where my bed supplies have been dropped, the back of an old (still hand-me-down) dashing book case filled with the books I still wish to keep or have yet to read, two dressers of which only one is used, a desk in the middle of the room, an altar unused for the rules of universities, a pile of belongings in the shape of a bed... It's a room in transition. My room for now, but our grasps on each other slips.

It will always be a special place for me. It won't always be mine. It won't always be my family's. Soon enough, I'm sure in the blink of an eye, it won't be either. I have loved my room. As with most things, it has been personified into a friend for me. With my personification I have never been friendless. I learned that skill within its walls, or at least near perfected them.

My room. I take bigger steps away from it each time I leave. I will add more rooms to my list, beyond my now brother's room we once shared and this room and my dorm room in Windsor Hall at uni in England.

I'm merely acutely aware of such things as I sort my belongings. It has to be a peaceful and reasonably slow process for me. Otherwise it is not complete with me. I do not want such regrets. I want complete. I will have a slow and companionable goodbye with one of my oldest friends.

As often occurs, a long entry that was intended to be short.
 
 
Kiwi Crocus
06 January 2009 @ 04:02 pm
  • 17:45 @snoopy874 Yay for being abducted and forced to join Twitter! I'm a total Twitter geek.
  • 23:43 I finished Melting Stones. I loved it. I love Rosethorn. I even love Evvy and a heart of a mountain. I'm so glad to have read it. Rosie...<3
And that's a wrap, folks! Kupokweh!