Dear Dad,
The words that you uttered one fall night will haunt me. The pain of having you slowly being pulled out of my life will replay in my head for there is no delete button. Those words, "I think you should pack up your stuff" will be covered with phrases of "I love you" and text messages with smiley faces. But covered up does not mean thrown out or forgotten. I won't make it consume my life, but I also know I will never forget it. Reminders are everywhere.
I come home on weekends to not lay in my bed I've had since elementary school, to not sit at the desk you put together. When I'm home the place I sought comfort with is now packaged up in plastic containers. The ribbons I had hung on my wall from horse shows you went to and patiently waited for me to enter the ring, are now folded in a box with my other belongings. The hot pink wall is blank with thumbtack holes from me changing my mind one too many times for where things should go. My graduation speech that hung on the left side of my window is now placed away, failing to highlight this achievement. The only thing left hung in the closets are plastic hangers, no longer organizing my shirts and helping an indecisive teenager pick out what to wear. My bed linens now reside somewhere else, yet the dog still finds comfort on that mattress despite the emptiness it possesses.
How could a room mean so much to someone? Perhaps it isn't what's inside of it or what it's decorated with, but the memories that the walls have absorbed through its 7 years with me. The entering of the teenage world was the first of many sleepovers that the room was lucky to be a part of. The Cannon video camera I so preciously used has taped too many scenes with these walls as its backdrop. A lip-syncing song and dance to an Ashley Tisdale number involves Briana gracefully falling off my bed. As well as the time that Lolo and I decided to rubber-band all my Webkinz to the ceiling fan and bet on which one could withstand it the longest. Sophie's and Maddie's cooking show even had its episode before the trip to Mexico in this very room. The moss green walls also heard the unbearable cries of my first breakup and even the second, but they were lucky enough to witness the acceptances of several colleges and the morning of my first and last day of high school.
It is no wonder that this room has always filled me with happiness. No matter where I was, whether at college or pursuing a summer adventure in California, the comfort of home always felt nearby. But things are different now. You are creating a new life. While I truly want you to be happy and content, I can't help but miss the days when packing up my belongings wasn't a concern. My childhood bedroom may be nearing its last days, but my memories of a happy, childhood home are very much still alive in my heart. As every last item soon finds a new home, whether it be with me at college, Mom's house, or tucked away in storage, they too will be remembered as pieces of a girl's most sacred and peaceful place; her bedroom.
Sincerely,
Sophia
