My Room, My Home

This is a descriptive piece that describes the room that I've grown up in for the past thirteen years. The assignment was to describe our room for memory. This is what I could remember...

As you walk into the very last room at the end of the hallway, you'll see my name printed on the closed door on a laminated strip of construction paper faded over time by the light of the sun. The name has been stuck there since i was in kindergarten and before I could even write.

The icy blue walls in my room sparkle when the sun angles a certain way, since the half satin paint is meant to illuminate. An Amy Winehouse poster stares down at the full bed that is covered in fluffy green and pink pillows and sheets.

The window sill has always been my favorite place, a wide enough ledge so that I can sit on it and lean against the perpendicular wall. The window overlooks a small willow tree and in the distance, Mt. Diablo juts out between layers of trees and smaller hills.

The lamp resting on the dresser to the right of my bed glows at night for midnight studying hours, while my phone sleeps and charges nearby. The leather headbaord to my bed helpes support my neck while I stay awake and read Macbeth. You can see a whiteboard, a full length mirror, and a kiss stain on the wall in front of me where a friend tried on lipsick and attacked the wall with a pair of lips. The stain rests next to two corsages with slowly aging flowers thumtacked to the wall...