“Three objects in your childhood bedroom”
I shared my childhood bedroom with my sister. We were so close in age, we were practically twins, and most of what we had in our room was shared in some way or another.
The one thing I remember the most clearly out of our room was the Milky Way. Mom had painted the stars on our ceiling, with a river of golden pentagrams coursing diagonally across it. If ever I lay awake in thought, I could count the stars to help me fall asleep, never in the same order, always to the same end.
The second item, still in our room today, is a sturdy chest of drawers. Its pale brown wood, carved with vines and fruit, would stand in the light of the big room window covered with trinkets only children could favour – necklaces with big plastic beads, little red wooden boxes presented as gifts, colourful initials for the name of each sister. Each of us was allotted with one drawer to fill. Each filled with as many bright and splendid childhood garments (bee costumes and onesie pyjamas included) as could possibly fit. One tidier than the other, one with a preference for blue and the other for pink, but both combining to complement the duo found in the two sisters.
The third piece, more of a collection really, was the mass of dolls and all their clothes that were housed in a box under my sister’s bed. This box was a world in itself. We could open it up on a rainy afternoon and spend hours creating stories, dressing and redressing the dolls, which were each given a new name upon entering a new story.
There’s so much more I remember about that room, so much that no longer has a place in our family home. Each item a piece that shakes the dust off the memories of my childhood and awakens them in the midst of stepping further into adulthood.