Week 1, Prompt 2 of 3

Week 1, Prompt 2

Alone in a quiet room, looking...

I'm sitting at my boyfriend's computer in his room, looking around.  His is a house with history.  He lives in a crowded area of Bangor, but his house has an attached barn with stalls for horses.  Obviously it is one of the older houses on the street.  The rooms each shows signs of being older, too, as well as signs of the previous occupants.  He has changed this house very little since buying it about a decade ago.

There is no overhead light in the bedroom, only lamps.  The floorboards are wide and (rather unfortunately) painted grey.  They remind me of my uncle's old farmhouse in Dexter.  The size, that is, not the color.  We both agree the previous occupants were crazy to paint them.  The light coming in through the windows is a bit gloomy, partly because of the old maple tree that reaches its branches out, blocking the sun.  I don't mind much, though.  I love old trees.  I daydream of walking around in a world bursting with old-growth trees.  I am comforted by this one.

The walls are a sickly green.  I might choose to paint a bookcase this color, or maybe the roof on a dog house, but not walls of an already poorly lit room.  I really think the previous occupants were buying whatever they happened to have a coupon for at Home Depot when they decorated this place.  I keep hoping one of those home improvement shows will randomly show up here with armloads of tiles and buckets of paint, chomping at the bit to get started on a new look.  But maybe it's a good thing.  Maybe I'll go nuts and take it upon myself to redecorate the place.  I can finally learn some home improvement skills, skills that come so easily to my mother and father but were sadly not passed on to me.  And if I mess up, what's the worst that could happen?  I mean, there are grey floorboards with dark green walls for crying out loud!

But enough of the décor.  There's a lot of other kinds of history in this room as well. There's a string stretched out across the wall, with various brightly colored neckties hanging from it like banners at a Japanese Children's Day festival.  One of those ties is the one that I bought for my guy as a present.  I was very fretful, purchasing it.  I've never been very good at selecting men's clothing as a gift.  Actually, thinking back, that may have been the first time for me to make such a purchase.  All those ties clumped together on a string against the wall look a bit tacky, but I can't help but feel a warm feeling pass through me as I look at them.

There's a plaque on the wall, proudly proclaiming the recipient to have completed the necessary requirements needed for a bachelor's degree in psychology.  Looking at its nice frame I feel a wave of embarrassment and regret, thinking of my own diploma.  Same information, different school, stuffed away somewhere in a drawer back home.  It managed to get a stain on it and now is permanently marred.  How embarrassing would that be to display in an office now!  I suppose a picture of a regal animal or mountain scene with a motivational statement under it will have to suffice.

There are still lots of remnants from a past he and I didn't share.  Some artwork, a couple of framed pictures.  I can't and wouldn't ever want to replace the past, just like he could never replace those faces and important things from my past.  Sometimes their presence in this house bothers me, sometimes they simply are.  My eyes slide over these things more slowly, in contemplation.


I see the orange and white creamsicle colors of Baxter, a beloved cat who we both agree is a bit of a simpleton, bless his heart.  He's curled up in his favorite spot in the whole world - freshly cleaned laundry in a basket.  Even the dog knows to treat him differently, because of his special mental capacities, but you would be hard pressed to find a more loving or affectionate creature.  He stares back at me with his opaque eyes, adoring and uncomprehending.  He's a little spark of light in this room.

He goes to curl up on the big bed now, his small frame pressing into the bright pinks and reds of the floral blanket.  It looks so inviting, the blankets, the soft little body lifted by gentle purrs.  I, too, join him for a cat nap.