Rambling room noises (yes...*sigh*...more Eisley references :-D)

Today we had a multitude of guests at our home. And, yes, it does feel like home now. We drove past our old house to pick up the wayfaring cat recently, and I was neither saddened by the "For Sale" sign in the yard nor were my heartstrings plucked when I saw the front lights on. It is an empty shell of its former self. Still full of memories for me, but it is not now my earthly home.

I trust that our guests enjoyed themselves. There was no shortage of food. However, due to the festivities, I organized my room yet more. I sit now in a room that has only solid furniture on the floor and bookshelves with clean tops. The boxes under my bed are stacked neatly and the scarves on my headboard are hung straight. It is strange. Though I have many large pictures on the walls and furniture aplenty, it is not "homely" as it is accustomed. No sneakers tossed against the closet door. No school papers on the floor.

Isn't it strange how my "mess" makes my room part of me? I don't like my mess. Sometimes it's convenient, but more often than not it is a bother. But, even when one leaves my art and my books and my clothes in the room, but takes away the little pieces of my life, it is not all mine anymore.

I love my books.