A room of my own and yet not mine.

A rare two-fer today. Please be sure to read George’s continuing tale of Homer and Marge. He is always entertaining and I’m so glad to have his words grace my blog.

I’m also writing a memoir piece for the Red Dress club. The prompt was “that brought us to a particular room important in your life. We want to feel like we’re there with you.”  I feel like I missed the boat on this one but I wanted to share my efforts with you.

The house was old.  Built around 1890, it was once a one story farmhouse. As the town grew up and out from the military fort, the family turned the front of the home into a mercantile. A dozen years later, the railroad came through town and the family prospered. The once small and cramped house was lifted and another story was built under the first.

Several generations and miserable remodels later, my family bought the house. For a couple of tedious years, I shared a tiny room with my much younger sister. And then finally, as one then another brother left, I was finally given a room of my own.

Spanning the entire width of the house, the bedroom was the largest in the house. With hardwood floors that could inspire grand jete’s , a large closet that also housed built in drawers and the tiniest vanity sink complete with the daintiest petalled sconces, it was perfect for a teenage girl. Lined with a wide crown molding and floor boards, the walls were a warm cream color with a delicate yet large floral pattern.  Just the wallpaper alone was more sophisticated than my 14 years.

In one corner, my bed sat. It was cream and brass, a daybed with just enough pillows to be comfy yet not enough to be overtly feminine and frilly. The curls and loops in the framework kept my wandering fingers busy as I would day dream or read. The green, cream and rose coverlet my mother chose also had a subtle floral pattern,  and the sheets were the color of vanilla ice cream.

Nearby was a tiny bedside table, perfect landing pad for the books and of course, a corded phone.

Three windows brought in streams of light through delicate lace panels.

It was a truly beautiful room, a testament to my mother’s fine taste and yet so very little of me.

16 Responses to A room of my own and yet not mine.
  1. Barbara
    March 1, 2011 | 12:17 pm

    I especially enjoyed: “With hardwood floors that could inspire grand jete’s” – it immediately conjured the image of a young wildly dancing girl.

    It also left me wanting more: “a testament to my mother’s fine taste and yet so very little of me.” Who are you then?

    I think you sold yourself short when you wrote that you missed the boat… Reading this made me want the boat to just keep going!

    :)

    • The Mad Woman behind the Blog
      March 1, 2011 | 12:27 pm

      Thank you Barbara.
      When I sat down to write this post I knew immediately that this was the room I had to write about. As I pounded out the words I began to realize how very little of me was in that room. Your words “left me wanting more” only solidify my feelings of the same.

  2. CDG
    March 1, 2011 | 12:31 pm

    If you meant to convey the message left in your last few lines, you nailed it. I could picture the house, the room, the details, and your disconnect from it.
    CDG recently posted..The Green Dress

  3. Cheryl @ Mommypants
    March 1, 2011 | 12:48 pm

    I loved the image of you doing jetes across the floor!

    That last line was awesome. It was definitely a grownup room. I can totally see the disconnect.

  4. Coffeypot
    March 1, 2011 | 1:44 pm

    I would love to live in a house like that. I love the old homes – made board by board, nail by nail, paint brush stroke by brush stroke. Nothing prefab. But I would have had to share. I never had a room to my own until I divorced my first wife and moved into an apartment. I’ve loved being alone ever sense. I could picture your room, and I know you added your touches to it, too.
    Coffeypot recently posted..The Story of Jonah- David and Goliath

  5. Katie
    March 1, 2011 | 5:52 pm

    This description was so beautiful. And then the end…oh how powerful.
    Katie recently posted..tiny reminder

  6. Mandyland
    March 1, 2011 | 6:30 pm

    The details, the history of the house, were amazing. Every word detailed why it should have been perfect and yet, your last sentence made want to know why it wasn’t.

    If this were a book, I’d be madly turning the page to find out the answers.
    Mandyland recently posted..A Room With a View

  7. Tracie
    March 1, 2011 | 9:43 pm

    Such a lovely, perfect, grown up room…..I would have been lost there, as a teen as well.
    Tracie recently posted..The Art of Journaling

  8. San Diego Momma
    March 1, 2011 | 9:55 pm

    Just.
    Beautiful words.
    And writing.
    Going to bed now, but wanted you to know.
    X.O.
    San Diego Momma recently posted..Hair Today- Goon Tomorrow

  9. Jackie
    March 2, 2011 | 6:58 am

    I love the detail. I can really see the room with the warm sun shining through the window in my head, and the closet sounds amazing. I can see how any teenage girl would love it.
    Jackie recently posted..Wordless Wednesday What mom

  10. tulpen
    March 2, 2011 | 7:13 am

    Love old houses. A little sink? So cool!
    tulpen recently posted..The One With The Witchs Window

  11. Sara
    March 2, 2011 | 7:14 am

    That’s beautiful. I had a family friend give me a new bedroom set (comforter and curtains included) and while it was beautiful, it wasn’t me at all. Did you ever get the room to be yours?
    Sara recently posted..You Have Tape On Your Neck

  12. MommaKiss
    March 2, 2011 | 8:37 am

    Mad woman, you’re getting really good at this. Gave me chills.
    MommaKiss recently posted..Cozy

  13. Kirsten
    March 2, 2011 | 11:40 am

    It’s funny – I scanned this first, and when I hit the last line, I realized, yes! that’s the feeling I got through the entire piece! whether it was an intentional device or you got there by subconsciously, you definitely achieved the effect of disconnect between your admiring description and the occupant of the room.

  14. Leighann
    March 2, 2011 | 6:23 pm

    I’m 30 yrs old an jealous of your vanity sink.

    How exciting it must have been to finally get your own room

  15. flat stanley
    March 5, 2011 | 4:55 pm

    Now go read the very short book, A Room of One’s Own (Virginia Woolf). Took Flat Stanley weeks to get through it, it’s that good and thought-provoking.

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