You know your sister loves you when she texts you from three states away and says, “I’m buying a mattress for your bed. What kind do you want?” I had to laugh! She is furnishing a room for me, with no idea as to when I will be able to come. Naturally, I realized it was for other guests as well, and yet, I loved how she pulled me into her heart with that one simple text.
She and her husband had sold their old house with furniture included, aside from one piece. A simple writing desk. It stood in the window of their old guest room overlooking the trees and now again, they have moved it into their new house and placed it under the tall window panes in what she is calling my room.
I’ve seen pictures online of “my room,” bathed in natural vanilla cream light. I can see myself sitting at the desk, the windows of my mind flung open, my thoughts floating in, gathering like soft clouds, my fingers flying across my keyboard, hardly able to keep up with inspiration. It is a place to get away, be creative, relax and gain new focus. A place to be me.
On really busy days when I’m driving all over and getting the usual things done, I picture myself in my room, lying on the big fluffy bed reading late into the night, listening to the stillness of quiet before shutting off the light. As much as I love my husband, sometimes my spirit longs for a moment of escape.
In all fairness, I know his does too. I think that’s why they came up with the whole “man cave” idea. For someone like me who went from her childhood home to her married home, the notion of having a room to call my own for a night is a luxury. When the kids were little and my husband offered me a night off, sometimes it simply involved me hiding in our bedroom and being alone. There was no extra room to be in, let alone share with an overnight guest.
In a guest room there are no responsibilities to keep you from relaxing. A guest room is fresh and clean and clutter free. And if you stay with my sister you are treated to real comfort. I have experienced she and her husband’s hospitality several times, and will never forget the chocolates on my night table and huge basket filled with necessities and goodies on the window seat. Everything from bottled water and granola bars to razors and spa creams. I know my new room will be special before I even go there.
My husband and I both come from large families and we all had to share rooms, so it was natural for us to have our kids share as well. That became inevitable when we bought a house the size of a cracker box and filled it with children.
A guest room at our house was the living room couch and free range of the kitchen. For years, our three bedrooms were being rearranged, reorganized, and redecorated to accommodate our growing family. The girls’ room went from glowy pink and overflowing with Barbie dolls and zoo animals, to dividing themes of horses and jungle critters.
While our daughters got along pretty well, our preteen daughter eventually began complaining about her little sister’s messes. She was creatively organized and longed for time for herself while her sister’s imaginative playing and art projects seemed to take over the room. Big Sister told us about her friends from school who had their own rooms. (One lucky girl even had a queen-sized bed,) and on one difficult day of sharing the space, she clearly stated that she wanted her own room.
I nearly burst out loud laughing, but if I remember correctly, instead l explained to her that no one in our family got their own room. I then told her of the story of when my younger sister and I shared a room. Because of the huge gap in our ages, and her still being a baby, I was awaken one morning to a big thunk on my head by a big wooden block. I guess at that early hour she was ready to play.
My daughter laughed, although it didn’t really help with her plight. So, together we came up with some ideas to help her gain a little more privacy, including “alone time.” When their shared space felt too cramped, she would ask for “alone time” and Little Sister had to come out of the room, giving Big Sister time to read, draw, listen to music, or just be in her room in peace.
Of course, Little Sister quickly caught on and so it went both ways. To help keep the peace, Little Sister needed to work on being a little neater and Big Sister needed to work on patience and not being bossy. I knew from experience that sharing a room helped to build character. Natural lessons in compromise, and consideration for another person were traits my husband appreciated in each other and wanted to instill in all of our children.
It wasn’t always easy, but as our girls leveled out in age, their sisterly bond grew into a genuinely deep friendship for one another. No longer did they wish for their own rooms. They grew to appreciate each other and set wonderful examples for their younger brothers next door.
With the three bedrooms being clustered at the end of the hallway, sometimes my husband and I would lie in bed listening to the girls laughing in the bathroom or giggling before bed. Throughout high school their shared clothing, jewelry and activities joined them even more and their relationship grew into best friends for life.
When our older daughter was looking at colleges she commented that she couldn’t imagine having any roommate other than her sister. I couldn’t imagine them living apart! But eventually they both would, and we were sadly left with a room devoid of their chatter, laughter and presence. There were times I would zip past their dark room without a glance for fear of either crying at the lonely space, or at the piles of stuff they had left behind. I pondered how to use the new room. In one sense, our tiny home had been bursting at the seams for so long that we all had felt the need to expand. On the other hand, we’d grown so accustomed to sharing, that change didn’t seem truly necessary.
Having lived through their own set of struggles while sharing a room, our two teenage sons thought we would finally split them up and offer them each their own space. They made a good argument, but my logical, candid thinking said, “Why have two messy boy rooms when you can only have one?” I waited to see if that discussion impacted their cleaning habits and since it didn’t motivate them enough, they slipped back into contentment with sharing and the subject became mute.
In reality, we still needed a room for our younger daughter when she came home on her school breaks and my mother, who had just lost my father, would need to stay with us from time to time. After much thought, we realized the best solution would be to create a space we could all use. An extra place for alone time. To read, study, talk on the phone in private, work on projects, or just be alone. There would even be enough floor space for my sons to lift their weights, do after-practice stretches.
So, my husband and I got busy resurfacing the ceiling and putting up crown molding. We scrubbed the walls, caulked over twenty years’ worth of nail holes, and painted the room a quiet grey-blue. The bunk beds got taken down and my husband lowered my antique iron headboard down from the rafters. It finally had a home again.
With my mom’s help with the decor choices, the room transpired into a calming peaceful retreat. Dusky coastal colors and accents were sparsely arranged, giving the room a clean look. Bunches of pink roses now fill the lower half of the window panes and my favorite piece in the room, the white sawhorse writing desk, with a mid-century bread box hiding my notecards, and a ceramic tray which holds pens and my daughter’s artist brushes. I am beckoned to come write. To me, the room is beautiful. And although I enjoy my time in there, so do our sons, our returning daughters, and our occasional guests.
The joy I have been given in sharing the room with others is surprisingly welcomed and is a pleasant exchange for my missing my two girls. It has helped my heart to spend time in such a room. A room with a framed photograph of the three of us hugging on my older daughter’s wedding day keeps their smiles close. And I admit to looking at it a lot.
Change can be difficult. Ask any mom whose daughters have left the nest, or whose sister lives far away. Whether it’s saying goodbye to a well-loved home or to one’s beloved children, we must face forward, look up, and turn the page. Starting again with a fresh, clean palette encourages us to turn our heads in a new direction and anticipate what is ahead.
I don’t know quite when I’ll get to visit my sister, but I know it will have to be soon. I miss her terribly and I need to check out my new room. But until I do, I will enjoy our new room. My room, here at home. And I do.
In a guest room there are no responsibilities to keep you from relaxing. A guest room is fresh and clean and clutter free. And if you stay with my sister you are treated to real comfort. I have experienced she and her husband’s hospitality several times, and will never forget the chocolates on my night table and huge basket filled with necessities and goodies on the window seat. Everything from bottled water and granola bars to razors and spa creams. I know my new room will be special before I even go there.
My husband and I both come from large families and we all had to share rooms, so it was natural for us to have our kids share as well. That became inevitable when we bought a house the size of a cracker box and filled it with children.
A guest room at our house was the living room couch and free range of the kitchen. For years, our three bedrooms were being rearranged, reorganized, and redecorated to accommodate our growing family. The girls’ room went from glowy pink and overflowing with Barbie dolls and zoo animals, to dividing themes of horses and jungle critters.
While our daughters got along pretty well, our preteen daughter eventually began complaining about her little sister’s messes. She was creatively organized and longed for time for herself while her sister’s imaginative playing and art projects seemed to take over the room. Big Sister told us about her friends from school who had their own rooms. (One lucky girl even had a queen-sized bed,) and on one difficult day of sharing the space, she clearly stated that she wanted her own room.
I nearly burst out loud laughing, but if I remember correctly, instead l explained to her that no one in our family got their own room. I then told her of the story of when my younger sister and I shared a room. Because of the huge gap in our ages, and her still being a baby, I was awaken one morning to a big thunk on my head by a big wooden block. I guess at that early hour she was ready to play.
My daughter laughed, although it didn’t really help with her plight. So, together we came up with some ideas to help her gain a little more privacy, including “alone time.” When their shared space felt too cramped, she would ask for “alone time” and Little Sister had to come out of the room, giving Big Sister time to read, draw, listen to music, or just be in her room in peace.
Of course, Little Sister quickly caught on and so it went both ways. To help keep the peace, Little Sister needed to work on being a little neater and Big Sister needed to work on patience and not being bossy. I knew from experience that sharing a room helped to build character. Natural lessons in compromise, and consideration for another person were traits my husband appreciated in each other and wanted to instill in all of our children.
It wasn’t always easy, but as our girls leveled out in age, their sisterly bond grew into a genuinely deep friendship for one another. No longer did they wish for their own rooms. They grew to appreciate each other and set wonderful examples for their younger brothers next door.
With the three bedrooms being clustered at the end of the hallway, sometimes my husband and I would lie in bed listening to the girls laughing in the bathroom or giggling before bed. Throughout high school their shared clothing, jewelry and activities joined them even more and their relationship grew into best friends for life.
When our older daughter was looking at colleges she commented that she couldn’t imagine having any roommate other than her sister. I couldn’t imagine them living apart! But eventually they both would, and we were sadly left with a room devoid of their chatter, laughter and presence. There were times I would zip past their dark room without a glance for fear of either crying at the lonely space, or at the piles of stuff they had left behind. I pondered how to use the new room. In one sense, our tiny home had been bursting at the seams for so long that we all had felt the need to expand. On the other hand, we’d grown so accustomed to sharing, that change didn’t seem truly necessary.
Having lived through their own set of struggles while sharing a room, our two teenage sons thought we would finally split them up and offer them each their own space. They made a good argument, but my logical, candid thinking said, “Why have two messy boy rooms when you can only have one?” I waited to see if that discussion impacted their cleaning habits and since it didn’t motivate them enough, they slipped back into contentment with sharing and the subject became mute.
In reality, we still needed a room for our younger daughter when she came home on her school breaks and my mother, who had just lost my father, would need to stay with us from time to time. After much thought, we realized the best solution would be to create a space we could all use. An extra place for alone time. To read, study, talk on the phone in private, work on projects, or just be alone. There would even be enough floor space for my sons to lift their weights, do after-practice stretches.
So, my husband and I got busy resurfacing the ceiling and putting up crown molding. We scrubbed the walls, caulked over twenty years’ worth of nail holes, and painted the room a quiet grey-blue. The bunk beds got taken down and my husband lowered my antique iron headboard down from the rafters. It finally had a home again.
With my mom’s help with the decor choices, the room transpired into a calming peaceful retreat. Dusky coastal colors and accents were sparsely arranged, giving the room a clean look. Bunches of pink roses now fill the lower half of the window panes and my favorite piece in the room, the white sawhorse writing desk, with a mid-century bread box hiding my notecards, and a ceramic tray which holds pens and my daughter’s artist brushes. I am beckoned to come write. To me, the room is beautiful. And although I enjoy my time in there, so do our sons, our returning daughters, and our occasional guests.
The joy I have been given in sharing the room with others is surprisingly welcomed and is a pleasant exchange for my missing my two girls. It has helped my heart to spend time in such a room. A room with a framed photograph of the three of us hugging on my older daughter’s wedding day keeps their smiles close. And I admit to looking at it a lot.
Change can be difficult. Ask any mom whose daughters have left the nest, or whose sister lives far away. Whether it’s saying goodbye to a well-loved home or to one’s beloved children, we must face forward, look up, and turn the page. Starting again with a fresh, clean palette encourages us to turn our heads in a new direction and anticipate what is ahead.
I don’t know quite when I’ll get to visit my sister, but I know it will have to be soon. I miss her terribly and I need to check out my new room. But until I do, I will enjoy our new room. My room, here at home. And I do.
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