I have found myself lately thinking about all the bedrooms I have had. My mind works in weird and wonderful ways don’t you think? I know most people don’t think a lot about their bedrooms they have had but if you did would you not be taken back to a different time in a different room . A nostalgic look at what bedrooms you lived in.
I am the youngest in my family. There were 4 children two boys and 2 girls. My sister shared her room with our cousin for several years. But that’s another story. So the 2 boys had a room and the 2 girls had a room and my parents had the biggest room. Our Great Aunt lived in a room over the garage. It was a sitting and bedroom all in one. I was sent to the back of the house in the smallest room. I was right near my parents so when I went to bed as a kid I would talk to my mom from my bed. Or I would make noises so she would come into my room. She never did, she would yell from her room. ‘Go to sleep!’
My room was a square, I had a desk and a bed. That was it. I think I had bunk beds at one point and then moved up to an actual bed. I remember my window would always be frosted over in winter and sometimes I could feel the arctic breeze come through the window. My window was right across a piece of land from my friends window and often we would yell to each other through our windows. My youngest brother John would always come wake me up for whatever adventure he would come up with. Or if it was snowing he would come to wake me up. Or if it was Halloween. John would let me join him and his friends running amok in the neighbourhood. But I would always be happy to come home to my own room. Plastered with posters.
My Dad brought me home a Hang In There poster one time of a cat hanging on a rail. He’d never done that before, given me a present. So I really loved that poster. As I got older I would paint my own art work to put on the walls or I would have pictures of my favourite actors on the wall. I also had a red plastic blow up chair. I have no idea where it came from but it was really cool back in the day. It was a great chair to read in. When my friends came over we would always hang out in my room so that chair became a pretty necessary thing. Seating was scarce in my 8 by 10 room!
I had a few nightmares in that room too. One was of dinosaurs roaming the streets and eating people. I just woke up with a panic in my chest and remembered my Dad was eaten by a dinosaur in the dream. It was pretty sad. And it’s still vivid today in my head. It started off with that far away pounding of a big dinosaur feet to the monster actually near our house. I remember part of the dream was when the dinosaur showed it’s ugly face in my window. It took me a while to go to bed after that nightmare.
One more thing I should mention apart from posters from my Dad. My biggest gift from him was that he shared his love of reading with me. On a hot summer day he brought me a book called the Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk. Here he said try reading this. It’s an adventure with some interesting characters we can talk about when your finished reading it. And so a reader was born. Soon after that Dad would bring me all kinds of books from his era. Another one that sticks to mind is The Keys to the Kingdom by A. J. Cronin. I loved this book. And so we would exchange books and thoughts on those books. We both were also very fond of A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith.
Jurassic Park had not been written so I don’t know where I would get dinosaur themed nightmares but it appears any kind of disaster held my attention! Because my other nightmare that stuck with me was that there was a huge earthquake and we all died. Not a pleasant death either! That was pretty scary.
Thankfully nightmares did not persist in my nocturnal habits. As an adult I would dream more about actors, I dreamt George Clooney took me dancing and Brad Pitt did too. I dreamt of warm tropical island and flowing sheer drapes moving to and fro in the warm breeze. I digress.
So back to bed rooms. As my older siblings started moving out of the house and when my great aunt died there was more square footage available. While I was away in Calgary trying to find myself…which I did not at all but I did have fun… again that is another story. I came home and my parents had moved me into their old room. They painted it and re decorated. Bought me a new bed. It was so awesome, the room was red and black. It felt like I was in my own apartment. I had plants hanging in those Macromay hangers, remember those? I had my big red plastic chair and I recall maybe a couch? It was so much roomier for having friends over to hang out! I loved this room, it was big and so comfortable. My window faced the road and there was a huge maple tree in the front that I would admire for many years. It’s gone now it lived through the best part of my years. I watched it turn from green to red and yellow and beige and from there to bare and back to green again. It was like a calendar that I would watch from my window in my room.
I found the love of my life when I was nineteen. He and I shared his bed many a night. A small twin that only my old self would be able to fit in. Young and slim and totally in love we cuddled and laughed, made love and smoked cigarettes in that tiny little bed. To us it was our world. We talked and talked and eventually we took the next step.
Marriage and again my bedroom was changed! We had a queen bed with antique posts. It was really so not us. But it filled the room. It seemed over the years our beds were either too high or too low. Our first queen was low to the ground. One year in our apartment. We then moved to a town house. It had 3 bedrooms and all the trimmings. My bedroom now was always shared. My room was not my own but I didn’t care I was happy to share it with my husband. We lived through many ups and downs in that town house and made it out in one piece and moved again to a house. It just so happened to be the house I moved out of so many years before. It was September and my maple tree welcomed myself and the rest of my family to our new home. Our children were six and thirteen. When I think about that move now it always reminds me of 9/11. Its kind of sad that that’s what I think of when looking back on that house.
Our bedroom was over the garage. It actually had a walk in bathroom and that was pretty sweet. It had a fireplace that we used in 98 during the ice storm. My parents went to the Hilton and we stayed at the house with my brother Paul who is handicapped. The ice storm was again another one of those events that will remain embedded in my memories. All four of us in a pull out bed in front of that fireplace trying to stay warm. We were all safe and that was the most important thing. My children remember it as fun! I mean it wasn’t horrific but it was kind of scary sometimes. Especially when those trees around your home would crack. You never knew if you would have windows in your home or a car by the end of the storm.
Our children could walk to school and they could then retreat to their rooms. Ryan took my old room and Megan took the room that was my sisters at one point. I’m not sure I ever saw the floor in either bedroom. Talk about clothes everywhere. A far cry from what I felt like was an apartment back when I was a teenager. My children didn’t believe in hangers or drawers for that matter. But hey it was their bedrooms. If that’s how you live that’s how you live. I tried to ignore it as best as I could.
Our bedroom was full of light in the day and we had a television where we could watch our shows. It was a hide out, a place to go to if you needed to catch your breath. It was where we my husband and I would snuggle and cuddle in our huge queen sized bed. My friends used to make fun of us because every time they would phone us and ask what we were doing we were like “well, we’re in bed!”
After 17 year in our home it was time to sell. So many memories went with us. Parties and anniversary’s and birthdays and christenings and babies . This was my father’s legacy. Our children had moved on and so it was time to give up the house and move to something more manageable.
We found an apartment on the Lakeshore. A two bedroom overlooking the Lake. It was lovely and large. Our new bedroom was a good size. We bought a new bedroom set in black. Now our bed was too high. You kind of had to jump into it. We had our own bathroom. It was sweet.
After five years in the apartment my husband died of lung cancer and I was back to being alone in my room. Our room was now my room. After some discussion I moved out of that apartment into a house with my two children. We lived in Saint Anne’s. It was a very old home and had a lot of character even when we wore our parka’s while watching television. It had its good things and bad. One good thing was I had the luxury of getting my daughters bed frame which is just right!
I am at the last station now. A seniors residence after 2 years with my children. Having received a call because there was a one bedroom available I couldn’t risk not getting in down the line.
So now my bedroom overlooks a little forest and its just beautiful. Its not as big as some of my previous bedrooms but its just me so not that horrible either. Half the bed has never been used. My walls are filled with art work that my sister has done. They bring me so much joy and are so colourful. Photo’s and art work… oh and plants… can’t live without my plants. There are none in my bedroom now because the sun is so hot in the summer but come fall I will move some in there.
No, I don’t think we look at our bedrooms much. Or maybe you do? But these rooms where we rest and love and cry and laugh these rooms are the essence of the house. A private place that if you want entry please knock. Late nights I can either write or I can listen to music with my headphones on and fall asleep to the greats. The songs of my youth.
My bedroom has always been a place for me to think, to read or write. It’s a sanctuary for my soul to rejuvenate a harbour for when my heart is broken. I am always thankful for this… my bedroom, a place where the spirit can find peace. Where a story can be told about it’s job with good sentiment and many glorious moments in one’s life. A bed as cozy as cozy can be can take away all the hurt and pain and loss. It can fill you with joy with thankfulness and with tender memories that keep your love alive.
As the years fly by I am thankful to have shared my room with a man who loved me and cared for me and his children. And now that I am on my own again, I am thankful to have those memories to hold onto in the dark in my room. To give me comfort. To remind me that love never dies it becomes something from within rather than from without.
Photo Credits
Photo is by Martha Farley – All Rights Reserved
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