When consciousness pulls me from the sweet depths of dreaming, I begrudgingly open my eyes to find my white-walled room, still the same. I am lying on my side, my head at the foot of my bed, (done on purpose, to get to the fluffier part without having to flip the mattress) my view is repeatedly filled with fleeting memories.
The first thing I see is a calendar. It is one of the Chinese style I think, where it is made up of hundreds of strips of paper. The year stands out against the white in a deep blue, declaring “1994”. Yes, I know I’m a bit off… and that the picture on it, of a fluffy white cat in a tea garden full of pink roses is very old lady-ish, but I love it. Unconditionally. I can’t remember who gave it to me so long ago, but I like to think it was my grandma Martha, who passed away a few years later. Martha, isn’t that a wonderful name for a grandma… it just embodies a wonderful white haired elderly woman, who brings you cookies and hugs you tight every time you see her. Anyway… “Friends are the flowers in the garden of life.” That’s what it says below the picture. It makes me think of the flowers my grandma would pick with my neighbor Edith, and how proud she was each time she put a vase of them on the table for us to enjoy.
This then leads (for reasons unknown to me as well) to the memories of me sneaking into my brother’s room where my Granma would stay, to try on her deep purple silk slippers, with a small bow on the top. I felt so sneaky waddling around in the too-big slippers, knowing that I was far too clever to get caught. I never did. But years later my mom told me that she and my grandma knew the whole time. I disagreed because I knew I had ninja-like qualities at that age and so it is still my secret to hold as my very own.
These memories that fly through my mind in an instant,it is like that calendar is a word, something that when I see it, it is a whole series memories condensed. Such as when you hear the word “waterfall”, images and memories spring into mind, yet vanish before you can grasp them. That is what my calendar and everything else in my room does to me. So I won’t go into too much detail, but here is what I wake up to each morning.
My 1994 calendar with a small koala bear clipped to the bottom, which my uncle got for me in Australia. The doll my other grandma (Dorothy, also another wonderful grandma name) gave me, who is wearing a crocheted dress of white with the edges trimmed in purples and yellow. The mini x-mas tree I took to Paris and Scotland over Christmas break of ’08. My 6 drawer dresser with a large mirror, that reflects my wrought iron 4 post bed, with scrolly hearts. The damned fish tank my brother left when he moved out (4 years ago), that has a neurotic silver dollar, and a demon plecostumus, the fish tank cleaning bottom feeder kind, did you know that they can grow as large as their surrounding… yeah its true… and the thing has HORNS ugh and eww! Moving on… The pile of blankets on the floor with stuffed animals is where my dog runs in his sleep each night, most definitely getting the vicious squirrel that haunts him during the day. These are all on my “organized” side of my room, past my bed it becomes a hodge podge of books, socks, computer things, books, slippers, candles, books, and oh yeah, my Snoopy phone!!! He’s the real deal straight from the 70’s where my dad got it, used it, got married, hid it away, where years later I found it and claimed it as mine!!!
