I just finished watching the movie P.S., which by the way has me thinking about Topher Grace in a WHOLE NEW WAY, since my previous acquaintanceship with him was limited to That '70s Show, where he was...well, '70s clothes and hair can take ANY guy and kick him squarely out of the Romantic Lead Zone.
Where was I? Oh, yes! So I was watching P.S., and there's a scene where the 39-year-old main character goes back to her childhood bedroom to retrieve some old stuff. And the room is, like, just exactly as she left it. Her high-school clothes still hanging in the closet! Her shoes still on the floor! Her posters still on her wall! Her stuff still messy on her desk! Her boxes of memorabilia still stacked precariously on closet shelves!
My old childhood bedroom is at the other end of the spectrum: when I went to college, I cleared it out as if my parents were going to be leasing it to a new tenant. I left behind two large boxes of things I didn't want to get rid of but couldn't really bring to college, either, such as books and my prom dress (did I think I was going to need that again some day? I tossed it out a few years later). Those, I put in the closet. Everything else was GONE. CLEARED OUT. Walls bare. Desk drawers empty. I MOVED OUT at that point, or that's the way I saw it. I still came back for Christmases and a couple of summers, and I liked to stay in my old room when I did, but it wasn't really my room.
My parents apparently got some flack about this from their friends, which was unfair because I don't remember it being THEIR idea that I strip the room like that. I remember just assuming that that's what the next step was, and doing it, and then showing it to my parents after it was done: here's the heap I'm taking to college, here's the suitcase for the drive to get there, here are the boxes I've shoved way back in the closet, and here are the trash bags full of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup wrappers that were under the bed.
Now, in my mid-thirties, my room has been not-my-room for so long, I kind of forget it ever WAS my room. Right now it's a playroom, with toys in it for when my kids play over there. I don't think of it as My Old Room, I think of it as The Playroom. It's a different color (yellow instead of white-with-magazine-pages) and the floor is different (hardwood and throw rugs instead of the schoolroom tile I was supposed to mop and rarely did). The only lingering trace of my old room is the rainbow glitter hairspray I unwisely sprayed on a corner of my closet door.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 2 of 2 - Last week I talked about the gifts we were getting/considering for Edward, who is turning 8 next month. This week it’s Elizabeth’s turn: not “girl gifts,” ...