![]() ![]() Ruthis Morgan used to try to convince me that my walls should be painted some other color. Mama picked that color after I was born, and I’ve never wanted to change it. All the photographs and trophies and silly knickknacks that had blanketed the top and told my life story better than any words ever could were gone, packed in brown cardboard boxes and neatly stacked in the cellar.Įven my pretty pink walls were bare. And this morning that chest of drawers was looking sad. Maybe it’s stupid to think that a piece of furniture had feelings, but then again, I’m the same girl who kept my tattered old baby doll dressed in a sweater and knitted cap so she wouldn’t get cold sitting on the top shelf of my closet. I opened my eyes just as the sun started creeping through the window, and I stared at the white chest of drawers that had greeted me every morning since I could remember. ![]() “My bedroom looked very different the morning of my eighteenth birthday. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |