I own around 30 books, one bookshelf, two stuffed animals, five balls of yarn, one sunset lamp, three blankets, seven pillows, five tote bags, and a billion other beloved belongings that make up my bedroom. There’s the door I accidentally slammed in anger one too many times, the pillows I cried into when life felt like too much, the bed I fell into every night after work and school in exhaustion, and the mirror I’ve stared at after changing my outfit three times. The worn books and old mattress hold memories dear and nostalgic within their pages and foam.
Less than a year from now I’ll be hours away and have left all of that behind. College means change, but that doesn’t hit until you’re close enough to see it in front of you. The same room and same things have provided a constant that won’t be there anymore. Time will freeze as the clock has nothing to tick for anymore. No alarm to wake me up, no reminder of sporting events, no prompting to go to sleep late at night. Leaving it all behind gives an unsettling feeling to the contradictory excitement of starting my adult life.
My bookshelf will collect dust and my sunset lamp will stay closed, waiting to glow once more. Yarn will wear old, and blankets will befriend the back of my old closet. I wonder if they’ll miss me too. I know they’re objects, but they’ve seen me through so many parts of my life. They’re as much a part of me as my personality. The books are my intelligence, the yarn is my creativity, the Legos are my strategic thoughts, and my room is my brain.
Leaving means packing, and packing means choosing what to take with me. It’s like choosing which things will make new memories with me, and which to leave behind. I’ll probably take my favorite blanket, and one of my stuffed animals I’ve had since I was 12. Her name is Evangeline. It doesn’t matter what I bring, though, because it will never be the same. My room will have to grow into a new routine, one of emptiness and longing, moment by moment.
Maybe it’s okay, though. Everything will stay in place and get comfortable where they sit. Time will be frozen, but I’ll come back. When I come back, it’ll unfreeze and it’ll be like I never left. I’ll be able to reread my favorite books I left behind and sit in my book nook that I’ve carefully built over time with pillows, blankets, candles, and a warm cup of hot chocolate made in my favorite cup. I’ll return like I never left at all.
Still, leaving is difficult and sets an ache in my chest. I’ve spent so many hours in this room laughing, crying, sleeping, staying up, having friends over, and talking to my brothers. Each smile and activity is like a stitch in the sweater of my childhood and departing even for a bit is akin to unraveling some threads.
Leaving things behind is necessary to move forward. Maybe focusing less on the past and more on the future will push me through hard times. The things I’ll leave behind and the things I bring with me become trophies of my childhood and teenage years. Bittersweet is the acceptance of growing up.
