suitable for guests.

it occurred to me this weekend. it snuck up like a well-trained agent - all cloaked in darkness and hidden away in the smallest space with the smallest peep hole made for people just like that agent.

it occurred to me that i don't live there anymore. my mother said calmly that she needed to buy a rug for my bedroom. my bedroom in saint louis. the one painted the perfect shade of green like late summer grass and perfectly perfect white trim around the windows. the one with my great-grandmother's furniture inside. and i replied, "yes. a rug in that open room would be nice." and then. then. then i said, calmly and without a hitch, "it would make such a nice guest bedroom."

oh dear god. how did i get this old? how did this happen? at what moment did my brain decide that that room was suitable for a guest bedroom? and a guest bedroom that i would sleep in when i go to my parents' house as a guest.

that room, though, is like stepping back into days i have left behind to yellow in their aging. the most recent framed picture was taken my junior year of high school. you can see the look of uncertainty behind all of our smiling faces as we prepared for one last year of high school leading to the rest of lives. leading to the moment when our bedrooms became more suitable for guests.