My Room


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My Room

 

A secluded island with warm sandy beaches, a sunset over high cropped mountains, or the beauty and serenity of silence in a magnificent forest. A special place could as extravagant as those or as simple as your favorite cozy chair. They reach out with much more than picturesque or comfort qualities. Some of our dearest memories happen to us in these places. Maybe it is because of the comfort we find there, the connections we have that make us feel a certain way, or is it because they add to our identities. They become a vital part of who we are. We could not function properly if that place were to suddenly disappear. You are definitely more likely to go out and do something that you enjoy because you will get more out of it. We need to have happy places and joyous thoughts. Without either of them, I believe, that the world would fall apart. Everyone would become so overly stressed out that the world would be full of more violence than there is now.

 

My room is meaningful to me because it was not always my room. It was my sisters first. Lisa is now married and pregnant. I remember all of the times that I spent in her room. How we used to play cards and watch movies on the weekends. All of our traditions. The Advent and Christmas season is when we had our most special traditions. Every Christmas Eve we would watch "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Meet me in St. Louis" before we would go to midnight mass. She would always ask me if I had a room of my own. Of course I always told her no. A few times she would try to throw me out, but it never worked. Although I annoyed her sometimes she was the one person that I could tell anything too. She listened intently to all of my stupid questions and would try her hardest to answer them. We always stuck together when trouble surfaced. I would comfort her when she had boy trouble and she made sure that I was okay when our grandparents died so closely together. I guess I love my room more now since I have all of these wonderful memories in it. Boy if those walls could talk. I really miss her and the times that we shared.

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I do not get to see her much, especially now that I am here in Iowa and she is in Chicago.

 

Besides being my hangout for umpteen years I am also most comfortable in my room. There I am surrounded by my loves. I have a passion for stuffed animals. I have collected large, small, plain, and ornate animals. I have never given away any one of my treasured animals. I still have, in my possession, the first stuffed animal that I ever owned. It is a tiny yellow dog with squeaky ears. I was told that my grandma gave him to me when I was a baby. I think that I have lost track of how many animals I actually have. At least a quarter of my floor and the entire top of my bookcase is crammed with my menagerie. My zoo ranges from the mightiest of lions and leopards, to the gentleness of dolphins, to the craziness of the Looney Tunes characters. There must be at least sixty residing in my room by now. Yes, I have even jumped onto the Beanie Baby band wagon. I have accumulated around forty or so in the past six months. My most precious resident, though, is a dog that my mother made for me when I was younger. He is a fairly large tan dog with medium sized chocolate brown spots. He goes everywhere with me. Right now he is over in Mary Ben! I would not be me if I did not have that dog around. He represents all of the love that my mother has given to me over these past seventeen years.

 

Besides stuffed animals, my room is wall papered with equestrian posters. I have always had a love and respect for horses. I rode solidly for about two and a half years. I was a hunter-jumper. It was one of the most liberating times of my life. I felt like I could do anything. I had to learn how to work with the horse not against the horse. We were a team. That was really hard to get used to because I am so tiny compared to those gentle beasts. Now I just ride for fun whenever I can. I recently had a crash course in western riding when I went to Arizona this year for spring break. That was the best spring break that I ever had. I could get up at dawn and watch the stallions and mares frolic in the corrals before our breakfast rides. I am always in awe of their majesty. I love to watch them run. People think that they are clumsy creatures. I compare them to graceful ballerinas. To me they look like they are flying. Horses just have a grace about them that I do not understand.

 

I think that  my room means so much to me because it also represents how I have grown into who I am. Also it shows how I have become more independent and moved on in my life. The process that I have gone through in preparing myself to move away form home and come here. It also portrays how I can not fully leave my past behind me. I had to bring my room to college with me. I brought my tan and chocolate brown dog, along with several other animals, and posters of my horses and other zoo animals. I also made collages of my family and friends so that they would always be with me wherever I am. I would be lost without my room or the objects and memories about it that I hold so dear. It is my haven. I can do anything there.


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