my sanctuary.

Saturday night,

I recently took the risers off my bed. It makes me feel more grounded… closer to home.

My room is my sacred place. It’s a place I can call my own, and every corner of it is a reflection of me. It stores my most solitary memories.

I have an analogy that links my life and my room. Whenever my room is a mess and everything is scattered everywhere, it seems like it’s always so hard to find the thing I need the most. Isn’t that so much like life. Like, how do we expect to recognize God whenever we have so much clutter preventing us from seeing our blessings? A clean room equals a clean heart and mind. Maybe that’s why I frantically clean when I have a heavy heart. Makes sense to me.

I love my room. I love that my walls and I hold no secrets.They don’t care that I can’t sing or dance. They don’t mind me reading my poetry aloud, and they listen in on my most earnest prayers. They know me better than most friends. I’ve moved a lot in my life… from house to dorm to apartment to apartment from state to state, and I always cry when I have to say goodbye to an empty room. It’s that serious. lol. So serious that I daydream more about my dream house than my dream man. Haha, so sad. I never bring my laptop into my room. I only use my pen andmy journal. I took the television out too. I don’t know why. It just didn’tseem appropriate. I’m starting a new rule: phone goes in the living room when it’s time for bed. It probably sounds silly, but it’s necessary for me.

I appreciate the stillness that my room offers. I appreciate being able to step out of a good, hot shower to lay in my bed and be dried off by my ceiling fan. Sometimes, I stare at the dream catcher hanging from the strings of myceiling fan, wishing I remembered the dreams it has caught.

My favorite thing is probably my framed letter that mybrother wrote for me on Christmas. I read it all the time. I’m just grateful, man! :) I’m grateful to have a roof over my head and a bed to call home.