A Space of My Own

The air is warm and heavy with the smell of sweet, scented candles. There is a rough, thick rug under your feet, and you can hear the gentle drip of rain on the roof. Soft, classical music is playing. Beyond the music, very faint, is the crackle of a lively fire. The only other sound is the purr of a contented cat, nearly asleep on the bed.

As you gaze around the room, you see warm, bright colors on the floral bedspread. Orange, yellow, pink and blue dominate the room. The two windowsills, the wood nightstand, and the dresser are dotted with knickknacks and small plants. In the hands of a small figurine angel on the windowsill rests a polished amethyst (my birth stone). A few choice books lean comfortingly against the natural wood trim, some upright, some stacked on their side. 

The nightstand is tidy, a simple lamp with a round brown base, and speckled cream shade sits next to the nostalgic copper alarm clock. The hammer and bell on the small clock have an air of days gone by. In the corner opposite you there are a few stuffed animals and a scrapbook.

The desk in the room shows signs of schoolwork. An open textbook and teal mechanical pencil accompany the papers and sketchbook stacked on the corner. The wall behind the desk is adorned with pictures, some of two little girls, some of three little children. With the photographs are a few watercolor paintings of flowers, and the sea, as well as coloring pages and an intricate pencil sketch of a tall toothed mountain and a lake.

On the largest wall, to your left, is a mural of jagged mountains the color of sunset. The faraway ranges are light, while the layers of peaks getting nearer and nearer darken to a rich burnt orange. Just inside the door, to your immediate right, is a line of hooks, busy with winter coats, hats and a knapsack. Christmas lights frame the cedar trim around one window, and there are intricate paper snowflakes decorating the pains.

Beyond the windows, there are tall evergreens laden with cottony snow. The room hints of an artist, and the warmth of the space perpetually grows as the nuances are perfected and memories grown.