my old room

Tuesday, February 13, 2007tee

I sit in my old bed, staring at the corners of the room. This room has been my sanctuary the longest. I've moved to and from the rooms in our house, and this was my favorite of them all. This was the room I'd always come back to. This room bore witness to my childhood and teenage experiences.

I remember first sleeping in the room alone at the age of seven. I had measles and had to separated from my siblings. I barely slept that night, crammed up underneath my blanket, scared of the sound of crickets outside. I also remember hiding in that room each time I did something to anger my mom. I would run as fast as my wobbly feet would take me. Along the way I grab the spare key and lock the door behind me. Imagine the look on my mom's face when she'd come to realize that she couldn't get inside my room! (Those were the naughty daysü) I remember having my friends over in my room. We would talk about crushes and things that pretty much concerns a grade-schooler- scary teachers, intimidating classmates, sports and games, our parents and school.

I open my wooden dresser. I remember staying up late at night, unable to sleep, writing entries in my diary. Those were the "Dear Diary, Carlo sat beside me" days, and a diary was a girl's essential possession. I slowly skim through the contents of my diary and smile at how my experiences, although some of which are petty, immature, embarrassing, and funny in a way, seemed to have shaped me into what I am now.

I remember waking up in the morning with the lights on and my textbook beside me, only to realize that once again I've slept in the middle of studying for an exam. I remember crying myself to sleep when a friend unexpectedly died. I remember confining myself in my room, reading a novel on a weekend. I remember faking that I was asleep so I don't have to go to church and wear those skirts and dresses I hated. I think I never got to fool my mother, but she did made me skip sometimes. And oh, I love skirts and dresses now.

I remember sitting on my bed, talking to my dad about my college plans and college applications. It was inside this room that I tried to hold back tears while I packed my things and left for college the first time. I have my fair share of boarding houses and apartments, but nothing could replace my old room.

I scurry along the old boxes containing old letters and keepsakes. I found birthday, Christmas and Valentines day cards, friendship bands, rosaries and bookmarks. I even found an empty chocolate wrapper labeled to have been given my crush! (no sign of ants, thank goodness) I found roses' petals and my good-old colorful hair barrettes which the nuns banned from school (we had to wear only blue, black and white hair accessories). I found picture albums and my grade school and high school IDs. Among other things, I found stationeries, sticker albums, and my compilation of short stories. I found old poems, some of which I never got to finish. I found old, crumpled papers containing random blurbs and thoughts.

I picture myself years back… A lot of things have changed since then. But one thing does remains constant: this room. Ever since, this room had been my haven of safety and comfort.

Once again, I sit in my old bed. And the memories just keep on coming back…

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