The Room
August 18, 2016
Nice to be home.
Here’s a reminder that it’s the little things in life that are the sweetest.
Like, walking down the hall, peering in, and seeing this guy snoozing away in his self-designed and decorated black and white bedroom.
I’m sitting here thinking about that walk down the long hall in our house. And the number of times I’ve peered into Peter’s room. It’s a walk I’ve taken a gazillion billion times since Peter inhabited this room eighteen years ago, and never, ever do I make the trip and not look in. I love his room. I love him in it. I love how his room has changed over the years. It’s all him.
In a couple of weeks, he won’t be under those covers. Holy cow. I can hardly bear the thought.
Melodramatics aside, I really am going to miss his messy little Jeremy-like self.
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Odd but true: Peter, on his dorm form–the questionnaire all new dorm residents fill out so that the housing people can pair roommates most compatibly–gave neatness a high priority.
Life of Wry 