The Guest Room

Growing up, my Grandmother always had a guest room.  It was reserved solely for guests.  No one ever went in there, unless they were the guest assigned to it.  (Or Grandma, who went in there and cleaned every so often.)

Grandma didn’t store things she used with any kind of regularity in there.  She didn’t hide things in there. (Like Christmas presents or cool things she found during one of her many shopping sprees.) She didn’t go in there and sit to read, when she was seeking a quiet moment.  She didn’t sew in there.  (Oh no, she had her sewing room for that) She didn’t do any kind of anything, but dust and change the sheets, in that room.  She even kept the door closed!  (I suspect dust lived in fear of that place!)

Until I came to visit.

Boy! I liked that room.  It had two twin beds that could be put together, if a larger bed was needed, but generally remained apart.  Just far enough apart that, if you did it quickly and quietly, it was possible to jump back and forth from one bed to the other without being caught.  I am not certain how I could possibly know that, but I do. 😉

I liked the cozy little reading chair tucked in the corner, perfectly situated just far enough away that one could rest their feet on the little settee that was at the end of the bed on the right. (That would be the settee which tended to tip over if one was careless with their jumping.)

There was a tiny little table that sat next to the chair, that was the perfect size for a cup of green tea and a napkin full of cookies. There was a floor lamp just tall enough to emit the perfect amount of light onto one’s book.  There was the delicious soft cashmere blanket that was thrown over the back of the chair, begging to be cuddled up with.

But, most of all what I liked the most about that room, was that it was always empty and devoid of all “the stuff” that my bedroom with my sister always held.  You know, Barbies, books and other typical girl stuff crammed into one very small bedroom.

On the contrary, Grandma’s room was clean and pristine and just waiting for me to come and visit and mess the blankets on the “other” bed, leave cookie crumbs under the table and the settee at a funky angle.

That’s kind of how I feel about this blog.  It reminds me of Grandma’s guest room.  It has been dusted, cleaned and the door shut for a while.  I have hesitated to come back and muss the blankets, leave crumbs about and mark it with my presence anew.

Tonight, however, I was “walking” past it (because of the comment notice) and I couldn’t resist opening the door and peeking in.  So, here I am.  I think while I’m here, I’ll eat a few cookies and do a bit of jumping.  Maybe you will hear me…and join me?

4 Responses to “The Guest Room”
  1. “Two little monkeys jumpin’ on the bed…” =) I’ve been missing you, Dawn. (((Hugs)))

  2. javadawn says:

    Uh, just ONE monkey jumping on the bed…s. 😛

    Thank you dear Patricia. It’s been odd – there have been times that I have thought, “Oh, I’d like to share that on my blog.” But, then, I’d talk myself out of it. “No one else wants to hear about that.”

    So, this time, I kind of snuck back in here, figuring that no one would even notice and I could just kind of “write to myself” for a while. 🙂 You’re just too efficient!

    It’s still quite likely no one else wants to hear the stuff that is rattling around in my head. But now, the difference is, IF there is anything that I’m pondering and chewing on, that could/would minister to someone else, I don’t want to find that my silence hindered them. (Does that read as arrogantly as it sounds?!!!! If so, feel free to say yes.) 🙂

  3. Danita says:

    I absolutely LOVE this!!

  4. javadawn says:

    🙂 Danita, you sweet bean! 🙂 Thank you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: