This is our Bedroom
Posted on 10. Oct, 2009 by Laura-Jane - Whimfield in House, Personal
This is our bedroom.
I wake up, without an alarm. Without moving my body, I glance at the clock on the slightly knicked bedroom dresser. The clock, a maroon, analogue knick-knack reads 8:15am. The second hand is nearing the half-hour. The noise is audible as the hand beats out its message second after second. The bedroom window is open a crack, even though it’s a crisp, Autumn morning. Through the gap in the window I can hear a blue jay crow shrilly and the breeze rustling the leaves of the overgrown poplar trees that line the driveway. I glance over at the back of Cameron’s head. Even though he’s facing away from me, his steady, calm breathing lets me know he’s still asleep. I try to keep still so as not to wake him.
From my place on the inner-side of the bed, squished between the wall and Cameron’s sleeping body, I peruse the bedroom. There are a few dirty socks scattering the room and three books tossed on the floor beside the bed: pleasure reading for Cameron (The Book of Negroes) and practical self-help books (Midlife Crisis at 30 and What Should I Do With My Life) for me. A dresser drawer is one-quarter open. In pairs, clean white socks make their presence known from above the gaping drawer.
There’s a small, ornate oak chair in the corner. The chair was an affordable find from an indoor-garage sale. The oak was refinished and lightly stained, and the seat and back were stuffed with thick foam and recovered in a rich mustard and silver-colored fabric. In the corner, the fancy chair is barely visible underneath an anthill of my clothes.
The closet door is still open. Every shade of the earth is represented in materials in that closet. It’s the original closet from this house’s original construction over 100 years ago. The closet is three-feet wide and we’re jamming six-feet worth of shirts and coats and skirts and dresses into its small space. The wooden clothing-rod bows in the middle, weighed down with outfits fit for every occasion. The closet’s floor is littered with an unlikely combination of shoes and gadgets and boxes stuffed with forgotten but seemingly important cards and papers and mementos.
“This is our bedroom,” I think.
I close my eyes and concentrate on the noises outside. I hear the now familiar sound of a chainsaw in the distance, the blue jays’ short jabs, the garbled calls and strong flapping wings of the ravens overhead, the whoosh of cars, trucks and tractors traveling along the road. A dog barking in the distance. The rustling of those trembling poplars and aspens. Lost in the sounds of life going on around me, I join Cameron in the steady, calm place that is sleep.
christy
Oct 10th, 2009
love it!! thanks for posting a lot more lately !!!!
Arenda
Oct 10th, 2009
Great that you’re posting a little bit more lately! I just HAD TO google the Midlife Crisis at 30 book… I might just have to order that. (Although I’m not quite 30 yet :p)
Laura-Jane - Whimfield
Oct 10th, 2009
Arenda, here’s a link to Midlife Crisis at 30. It’s actually a fabulous book, but, readers, beware it’s specifically geared to women. I’ve already recommended it to a friend of mine. The book talks a lot about balancing careers versus family and personal life in general.
I actually like “Midlife Crisis at 30″ a lot better than “What Should I Do With My Life.” I’d really recommend “Midlife Crisis at 30″ to all women of all ages who are trying to juggle work and life and dealing with those tough choices we all make everyday.
In PEI, you can get the book from the library, as well.
Michelle
Oct 10th, 2009
I love your writing… how you can express your thoughts seemingly effortlessly. I laugh out loud and your waking observations. I can so relate.
Our fixer-upper old farmhouse had four tiny bedrooms. Hubs tore out a wall between the two rooms on the east side and made a nice walk-in closet, using the old door to one of the rooms. He even managed to salvage the old plank flooring which he painted white and it’s oh so shabby chic now.
When I crawl into bed, it matters not how comfy or sleepy I am… if my closet door is open I MUST get up and shut it – I can’t stand for it to be open. My crime of leaving a laundry basket or two of clean laundry sitting on the floor for a week or so is easily ignored since I can’t see that mess from lying in bed. I keep my dresser drawers closed… they’re a mess inside.
Mid-life at 30? no, no, no…. life is wonderful in the 30s. Perhaps some growing pains but I wouldn’t call it mid-life. That might happen in the 50s, though. Turning 40, for me was horrible but the reality proved otherwise. Life gets better in many ways especially if you have good health. If I could do any decade over again, it would be my 30s without question.
Sal
Oct 10th, 2009
I left a comment under the Firewood Consumption blog – good info on wood stoves and composting toilets.
I am so glad that you did this – you will never ever regret it!
Gary Gray
Oct 11th, 2009
Hi L-J
Wonderful post, very descriptive, so much so that I actually felt awkward about being in your bedroom looking around. lol
Perhaps it would be better if I were to sit at the kitchen table (if you have one) and patiently await your arrival there. Thanks!
I could put fresh coffee on so that when you reawaken, your senses will be filled with the wonderful aroma that beckons forth the body to receive it’s morning jolt of java.
I could visit with you and Cam before heading out to devour the day with it’s crisp bright sunshine, scarlet and gold leaves still on the trees, potato harvesting crews and machines working the red clay fields.
The last sail boats being reluctantly pulled from the water on the Montague waterfront. The usual band of retired old guys gathering at Tim’s to share an afternoon coffee and a yarn or two.
The shadows hint of the lateness of the day. I must head home to prepare my supper and watch a half hour of Compass, before I set out on my evening walk, read a chapter or two of my paperback ” The Leader In You” and get ready to turn in for the night. The wind has picked up with the darkness that has fallen and a cold dismal rain has begun to fall.
Strong is the wind and it tears the colors from the trees until only the bare limbs starkly proclaim in protest their nakedness as they await the first covering of snow.
Fall is passing, Winter is coming…
Smiles :o)
Gary
Sal
Oct 11th, 2009
I read the whole thing in five hours. Amazing journey. Amazing family love. Amazing friends that you made. Thank you!
Micheline
Oct 12th, 2009
You turned something so simple into something worth reading again and again. It sounds like heaven.
Nathan
Oct 13th, 2009
I read about your story in the Hamilton Spectator (Oct 07), very nice way to end your journey.