The countdown to my wedding is no longer being measured in weeks, but rather in days.  I’ve got four more days until I’ll officially have “moved out” of my house.  I’ll actually be leaving Michigan on Monday, but I suppose the rukhsati marks my departure from my house.

I can’t describe how sad I am to leave my home because there are too many things I love about it.  But I think I can at least try to describe the many reasons I love my own room and why I will subsequently miss it.

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Let me first start by mentioning that my room wasn’t always just my room.  I started off living in my house sharing my room with my sister.  Our walls were peach and our carpet was pink.  We were the two little girls of our family “peacefully” co-existing in a girls’ playworld…. shyea right!

Fati and I used to fight… a lot.  And without ruining the izzath of my sister and myself, I’ll leave it at that.  Actually, I’ll mention there is a dent on the right wall of the room from a platform shoe I’ve thrown at her.

Time in our room wasn’t always spent quarreling.  We used to have two twin beds in our room and they were perfectly spaced apart.  This “negative” space in the room was just right for creating a tunnel system if there were sheets pulled over the surface of the beds and the furniture.  I don’t know how else to describe it, but Fati used to make tunnels for me and my brother to crawl through and find gems, jewels and other assorted treasures.

Anyway, after Fati moved out to go to college, when I was a sophomore in high school,  ammi and abbu surprised me with new furniture and basically in the processed ousted my sister to the room down the hall.  I felt very nervous having a room of my own, because for many years my sister had told me that there were vampires in the closet.  I always believed her and also assumed that if they were to attack us at night, then they would either go for her first, or she would protect me if they came at me.

In my room, the bed was positioned to face the window which shows the backyard.  I learned to truly admire the Southern exposure my room had from this.  I get direct sunlight every morning which essentially makes my room an oven.  Sometimes when I wake up in the morning and open my bedroom door and cold draft comes in because my room is that much hotter than the rest of the house.

My room has always been a place for me to nestle myself in my bed and leave all my cares behind.  I remember days of trying to get through Madame Bovary, AP Biology, AP Calc, Honors English 9 reading and the like, never trying hard enough, and passing out on the floor.

I also remember the days when I would run up there and endlessly gab away with friends and cousins.  For sure during each family dawaath Mariam and I always make it a necessity to retreat to my room and talk and talk and talk and talk.  I’ll miss that about my room, it was always a place for me to ramble on and on and on.

I know my next room will be where I build a new life, but I know I’m going to miss the room where I built my first foundation.  The room down the hall from Fati, next to Osman, across the hall from bathroom, and next to my parents.  I like to think that the position of my room is analogous to my position in the family… I’m right in the middle of everyone, and I like being “hugged” by them when I sleep.

*sigh* I heart you, my room.