She loved her bedroom growing up—it was her own space to retreat to when she was happy, sad, or simply wanted to be creative. Boxes of crayons and sheets of blank paper awaited her inspiration, ready for another masterpiece to join the others in Mom's treasure chest.
As she transitioned from cartoons to rock stars, and from classmates to crushes, the walls of her room changed to reflect her interests. Above the mirror hung a simple wooden cross, a reminder that God was good. The white pearl rosary beads dangling from the corner of her dresser brought her peace when she held them, allowing her to say a few prayers to start her day or end her night.
Her bedroom was her sanctuary, a place where Mom would come to comfort her when she needed it, always checking in to say hello and reassure her that she was nearby.
She tried on her prom dress in her room, staring into the mirror and twirling around to make sure it was perfect as Mom helped with her hair and makeup. They were two giddy girls filled with excitement, while for Mom, it was a moment so deep that tears fell, going unnoticed at least for now.
As time passed, the little girl who cherished her bedroom grew into a young woman preparing to marry her high school boyfriend. Her heart swelled with love as she packed a few boxes from her past, filled with treasured pictures, along with the wooden cross and rosary beads that had once given her such peace.
With a box under her arm, she stood at the door, looking back at the place where she had grown up, trying to recall every second, every smile, and every tear. She remembered the late-night phone calls and slumber parties. Her room would soon be transformed into something else—perhaps a home office or a guest room—but for her, it would forever remain a time capsule, a reflection of who she was.
—Mike, 2025
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