Okay, so it is time to let you in on a little secret. I am in love with the television show Glee. No joke, since the very first day it began I fell desperately in love with it and have never wavered. Tonight it returned from its summer hiatus and it returned splendidly. They did a wonderful job at showing how summer was and I am of course extremely excited for the rest of the season.
That was the main perk of the day.
I also cleaned my room. Speaking of which, lets me discuss that.
So for most people a room is just something that is natural. For me, it is something special. When I was nine I moved one town over with my family when my mom got back with her high school sweetheart/first husband. At first we lived in an apartment where, since there were three (and occasionally four) of us trying to live in a small two bedroom, there really wasn't room for all of us. I slept on the couch most nights while we stayed there.
Then we moved into Jack's (my step-dad) two bedroom house. The four boys (my two half brothers Brandon and Tim, and two new step brothers Josh and Dean) shared the master bedroom. And my mom and Jack shared the second bedroom. This left little old me stuck sleeping in the living room. My clothes and toys were in plastic buckets. We lived there for a year (or more).
Then we moved into Jack's parents house when they moved into an elderly community. Once again, it was really only a one bedroom home that was about a hundred years old. The attic had been half renovated, giving my mom and Jack a bedroom, while I was stuck living in the not renovated half. For about three months I lived in a disgusting and terrifying attic space. I could literally see the inside part of the roof, after all it was my ceiling. About three months in they decided to start renovating and I was once again stuck on the couch.
About six months later the renovations in my room were done. Don't get me wrong, the room was better. However, since it was an attic, putting up dry wall created an awkwardly shaped room and it was always really hard to work with. But the worst parts were a) there was a huge cut out to reach the filter thing for the heater and b) for the next five years I lived with a curtain (tacked nonetheless) as my 'door'.
On December 12 of 2007, just two weeks before Christmas, our house caught fire. This was sadly the second time I had lost my home to a fire in my life time. For six months we lived in a small fifth wheel, and I once again slept on the couch and used a small closet to store all my belongings (which of course were few since the house fire). But, then when our new mobile home was put in on our property everything changed.
I remember when they we really close to being done, just a couple weeks before we moved in and we were allowed to go inside for like the first time really since my parents had picked it out. I remember going in by myself after I got home from school, sitting in my bedroom and just crying.
Now my room isn't anything special. Its a rectangular, not even that big, room. But the fact that it was mine and had a door was something that just felt so oddly wonderful. And for the first time that I could remember I got brand new furniture, not the hand-me-downs I was use to getting.
For the last four years I lived in this home, and it is the first time I feel that it deserves that name.
From the time we moved in, to just recently, my room has been themed in neon spots and stripes. But, now that I am twenty, I matured it a bit. I went for wrought iron and damask styles throughout with an emphasis on keys and hearts. It still has pops of cotton candy pink and blue, but other then that it is mostly black and white. And I even have a chandelier. We still have one last thing to do to it and that is hang up tulle on the ceiling similar to the way they do it for dances and weddings.
But, anyways, moral of the story is I love my room. Most people don't understand what it is like to not really have a place to call you own, and after so many years of not I am so grateful that now I do.
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