Her Space

Her first room was lavender with a large wisteria border that circled the room. White furniture and small stuffed animals were everwhere. I created a balloon shade out of polkda dot linen that let in dappled sunlight. I remember holding her while she cried with ear infections and seeing the soft sun through the dots. Those sunny dots calmed me so that I could calm her.

Her next room was red with ivory furniture and another shade that had small trellis of flowers running down its side. This room was smaller than the first but it holds big memories. This is where she had her first "big girl" bed. Here, I remember dressing her for dance recitals (which she hated) and for Halloween trick or treating (which she loved).

Next came the "horse room" with posters of ponies and wildflowers. This was a room full of new 'firsts". Sleepovers and diaries and lots and lots of clothes strewn everywhere were the backdrop for her school life. This is where she brought home her first backpack, her first team jersey, her first report card.

Today, her room is orange and yellow and yes, there are still clothes piled on the floor, piled on the bed, piled in her laundry basket. D-R-E-A-M lines her bathroom walls along with pictures of her teammates and friends. Tonight she preps for her senior prom and in a few weeks she turns 18 and soon this room -- this space -- will be just something that she returns to on weekends home from college. I walk in and see her everywhere, my heart full of all that I had hoped for and amazed at how she has exceeded every idea, every thought of her.

Her space and her world are growing and changing. Though the job of a parent is to make oneself not needed, my happiness for her her is eclipsed with the understanding that this space, like me, will soon only be a background for her next life events.

I stooped to pick up the laundry basket and wondered if she'll remember the time we selected the orange paint and spent all weekend designing her room into the room she envisioned. I wonder if she'll remember the times we talked into the night about school and practice and friends and grades. I wonder, will she cherish this space as I do along with the memories of her.