In class today, I was required to write a paragraph about my room. This is how it turned out:
At the end of the day, I release a sigh as I lay down in my bed, thinking about how what was once an impersonal cubby of a room has turned into my refuge on a tiring day. The first day at Job Corps, I was shown to my new room. My heart sank at the tiny, empty space that I was now to occupy. The walls screamed “this is not home” in a bland off-white color. The cork board above my empty, tired looking mattress was void of color and personality. My locker and dresser were empty with the exception of scraps of paper here and there; the evidence that this space once belonged to someone else. With the memory of that first day in my head, I look around now and smile at how things have changed. The walls, still off-white, are now more familiar and comforting, clean and pure. The cork board above my bed is filled with familiar faces of those that I love. I look up at them and I can feel the comforting warmth of their hugs and the music of their voices, calling my name. My bed now has my bright, soft blanket lain over it, covering my body, enveloping me in a peaceful warmth. My pillow that smells of home is tucked under my head and in my arms filling my head with memories. My mind feels at ease, knowing that my locker and dresser are filled neatly with my clothes and other belongings. I sigh again and close my eyes as I drift off to sleep, at peace with my surroundings, knowing that I’ve made this tiny space into my new home.