My Mother's Room
There is a room in my house that faces a new dawn each day. It is located upstairs with a large window of hope, walls of charity, and furniture of past and present. This once was a room of dialogue and debate but now a space of silence and thought. An arrangement created out of sudden loss and later choreographed by time, this was my mother’s room that is now a Study. After her husband’s death, my mother settled in with us and began to acclimate herself to new surroundings. As you walked into her bedroom you immediately smelled a fusty odor that indicated age was present. Classical music emanated from a radio that she kept on top of an old chest of drawers. Noticeably, a long wooden back-scratcher was on the wall by the light switch. It was cracked and so worn down that it seemed to be out of place among contemporary baseboards and hand crafted closet trim. On the opposite wall was a Crucifix that reminded us of what we are. Nearby was a family portrait that remind