My Childhood Bedroom

In all my cleaning and organizing getting ready for our move I came across a file of papers that I'd saved. They are writing assignments from high school and college. It was kind of fun reading through them, and I thought it would be fun to add it to my blog. Remember I wrote it in high school, so ignore any errors.



Of all my bedrooms, my favorite was my childhood bedroom. Located in the back corner of the top floor, this was where I let my imagination run wild. My earliest memory of this room was waking up to the sound of mom taking down my crib.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I inquired.
“Well, you haven’t slept in the crib for a while now and you’re getting too old for it anyway,” she answered.
“OK.” I said as I returned to my peaceful slumber with my older sister, Rebecca. Then I started to ponder what my mom had said, “Wow, I was getting old. I could start hanging out with Rebecca now.” I marveled.
This was the beginning of our adventures as roommates in our room that could become anything. One of our favorite things to do was rearrange our furniture. We would plan out where to put the bed, the big dresser and the vanity set -- if a tape measure was needed, but there wasn’t one around, we would simply use our feet to measure. The neatest design we ever had was called the cloud room. We simply put our bed directly under the window (the large wood headboard would cover the window a little big, but that was alright because we would be rearranging again in another two weeks.) We put the dresser and vanity set as far into the corners as possible so they were out of the way. Then we found two sticks and taped them to the bottom of the bed so they raised about 31/2 feet above the mattress. Next we draped the white sheer window curtains over the bed to hook onto the sticks. It was our own little canopy. We even went so far as to cut clouds out of construction paper to pin onto our curtains. Two weeks later the bedroom was transformed into the “dressing room design.“ The dresser and vanity set were strategically placed so that we could walk behind them into the corner and have a secret “dressing room” in the corner.
Rebecca and I would stare for hours at the little girls on the delicate wallpaper deciding who was who. We would try and pick people that we knew to be the other little girls. We’d tell stories about where the little girls were going, and what they were like.
The most exciting part of the day was nighttime because that was when our imaginations took over. We would start at the circus. The headboard of the bed was our tightrope hanging 30 feet above the ground. If a daring trick got to be too hard, we would fall onto our bed which played the part of the net. Of course before starting each feat we would rehearse the “Don’t try this at home!” speech, and giggle at the irony. We were so good. We knew we would be in the circus when we grew up.
After mom’s warning from the next room we hushed ourselves and got ready to get in bed. Now, getting in bed was a bigger process than one would think. We would walk throughout the small room three or four times and look for any murderers, then I would throw open the closet door as Rebecca screamed to scare the murderer. When the sight was clear we would move onto the bed. Standing at least three feet away from the bed we jumped onto our safe bed. Next, I, on my side and Rebecca, on hers, on the count of three we quickly peered under the bed to catch any murderers there.
Then the second warning would ring out from mom’s room. Looking at each other and trying to restrain our laughter we proceeded to get into bed. Fighting for our own share of the covers, Rebecca would yell, “SHARK!!” Suddenly we were on our lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. The rules of the game implied that any part of your body not covered by blankets would be eaten by the shark.
It was now time for Mom’s entrance with the third warning. At the squeak of her bedroom door, we hurried under our sterile while covers, raised our arms and made them as straight as possible, then on the count of three our arms slapped down onto the covers, tight against our sides. The light from the hallway peered in and mom entered to see us in our nice and tidy hospital beds. Mom was a friend that had come to see her dying friend.
“Hello, thank you for coming to see us.” Rebecca would utter in her weakest voice possible, accompanied by the slight elevation of her weak, sickly arm.
“Why are you still awake?” She would question.
And in the most innocent expression I could muster I’d answer, “We want you to sing to us.”
Mom would give a sweet, knowing smile, then start to sing our favorite lullaby, “I Love You, Truly.”
“Thanks, I love you mom. Good night,” we responded almost ready to fall into a peaceful slumber.
After mom left the room we’d talk about our friends, family, worries, and happiest memories. Then Rebecca would fall asleep while making up stories about the shadows on the wall.
“Shark!” I yelled not wanting the fun to stop, but Rebecca’s body lay there motionless. I’d always figured that the shark was created out of our own imagination and wasn’t real, but I didn’t know for sure because I’d never been out of the covers to see. I rapidly threw the covers over Rebecca’s body and then scrambled under the covers for my own safety. I stayed under there for a good few minutes because I had to make sure that the shark was gone before I could take off the covers. I chuckled to myself grateful that no one else had seen. Then I returned to thinking about the shadows on the wall.
Each night in this room brought on a new adventure. Even now, when I enter my childhood room I see the white fluffy could curtain, the high tightrope backboard, and the girls on the wall. I am taken back to the wonderful, carefree memories of childhood.