I’m sitting here at my computer in the bedroom that used to be my daughter’s.  My trusty dog Fido snores at my feet.  I can hear the heat turning on, but the warmth hasn’t reached me yet.  I should really get up and bathe the dogs, but Fido’s snoring is calm and rhythmic.  Teddy bears and hearts are still stenciled on the wall up near the ceiling.  Actually there are lots of pieces of my daughter’s life left behind.  For instance, straight ahead of me on the wall is an old bulletin board that still holds ticket stubs from “Les Miserables”, “Rent”, “Chicago”, and “The Phantom of the Opera”.  On another wall, above her bed, are a collection of pictures from her dance class days.  And on yet another wall are pictures she painted while in high school.  Hanging in the closet are a few prom dresses and a few bridesmaid dresses.

Since she’s been married I’ve been meaning to clear the room out and make it a more functional office for me.  But then again there’s something so comforting about being here with her things.  This has been her room since she was born.  I can so clearly picture her sitting at her little girl vanity with makeup smeared all over her face, or laying on the top bunk with her feet resting on the ceiling, reading a book. As is, this room keeps all of her ages alive for me.  There is plenty that has been forever removed from the dresser drawers and under the bed, but the stuff on the walls is probably going to stay a bit longer.  My choice.