A story of bedroom
"And I have a little plan of your bedrooms too, which may now be performed without inconvenience to anyone." This is what Mrs Dashwood said to Elinor and Marianne to persuade her two girls to accept an invitation heading for London. Somehow, this seemingly ordinary and even not that persuading line did arouse my feelings way more than I have expected. I just could not help thinking of my bedroom back in my home.
I was actually born in a remote village nestling itself among stretches of mountains and forests. The only shop for daily necessities is located on the top of mountain. My family paid regular visits to the shop equipped with a pack basket big enough to meet the demand of the family for at least one week. The journey to the shop is never an easy one. The only road was created by countless repeated footsteps of the villagers with lots of steep stairs and stiff cliff one the other side . The road can become extremely slippery on rainy days. Once, my poor father unfortunately fell down on the stairs and all the stuff just fell out from the pack basket and went down along the cliff and were gone once and for good.
In the year for my schooling age, my parents managed to move out of the outlying village into a town for securing me with opportunity for better education. They spent all their savings to build a two-layered house. On a summer day, we said goodbye to all our relatives and connections in the village and brought with us some basic furniture( hand-made chairs, tables and wardrobes), which were made of woods in our tiny village. We sat on a lorry and after several hours of driving, we moved into our newly-built house.
With no furniture or decorations to be seen, it appears to be even bigger.
And that is the very beginning of my bedroom memories.
I still remember my bedroom is also a very big one which has a big double-bed and a wood-desk and a chair. Oh, by the way, i am a person who would always prefer to sleep all by myself, so I have had my own bed from a very early age, which maybe not that common among my generation. At the early days, as a kid myself, I suffered little in adapting myself to a town life. I soon got to know and play with kids in the neighborhood. In a short period of time, I had got my name known among the whole community. And soon, I picked up the accents of my new neighbors and ignored my old dialect. For my parents, it was just an other story. They had to fight for our bread and sandwich. My Dad worked in another district of the city and would spend one hour on his bicycle every morning to reach his office. My mom struggled to do several part-time jobs. For a long period of time, my bedroom remained emptily big for a little girl. There was even no curtain for the big windows. The walls in my room reflecting the flicking shadows of the trees on windy nights were still vivid in my memory. Sometimes, when I cannot fall asleep, I would even talk with those shadows, and somehow I felt warm and not lonely, sort of companionship.
To be honest, every time I saw the beautiful curtains of my neighbors, my imaginations were busy with the patterns and colors of the curtains in my bedroom.
Apparently, I was not kept waiting for too long. During the time, my tough mom had succeeded in becoming a hairdresser in her thirties after months of hard work to learn from an experienced teacher around her clock. I still remembered my excitement and happiness to see the curtains when I came back from school. Because my mom did not tell me her curtains plan. So it was indeed a pleasing surprise to me. The curtains are by no means stylish or even beautiful, just ordinary patterns. When I spent the first night in my bedroom decorated with curtains, I was so relaxed and so fulfilled that I just felt closer to this still empty room. From then on, it seemed that I could be more of myself by staying in my own bedroom.
Through out the whole junior middle school days, my bedroom welcomed some new members, a small wardrobe, an alarming clock, several lamps and a book shelf. I always felt free in my bedroom.
During the three-year high school period, I could only stay one night in my own bedroom because of the tightly-scheduled time-table for college-entrance-examination candidates. My desk was full of all kinds of supplementary materials on all subjects on the only night of my stay at home. When I left for school, the desk became empty and the bedroom was always empty.
I went to university in another city and went home only on summer and winter vacations. In the first years of my college periods, my bedroom was indeed still there with a wardrobe which just contained torn-out school uniforms, a book shelf over-occupied by old textbooks on all subjects and a desk with nothing just several layers of dust to be seen. My mom would always kindly clean my bedroom the day before I came back from school until one summer vacation. I came back from school as usual and found out my bedroom was filled with all kinds of stuff:several unused chairs, several black bags of torn-out clothes, lines of wine bottles. All of sudden, I came to realize my bedroom was gone. My mom said she would remove all the things so that I could stay in my bedroom. Thinking that I just stay at home for two weeks at most, I just told mom that I would be very delighted to just sleep on the floor on summer days cause I would feel more comfortable.
And I did not realize that my bedroom was actually gone once and for good from then on.
All these days, when I go back home, my mom would prepare a comfortably made bed for me with newly-washed sheets and comfortable covers and fluffy soft pillow for me. I can absolutely have the best sleep on a home bed. However, I do miss my own bedroom, not just the home bed, but a room which accompanied me all the way up from a little girl to a grown-up.
And I do know that it is high time I prepare a bedroom for myself.
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