khazzy's Diaryland Diary


There is no place like home

When I was a little girl I always felt safe and had no worries. No matter how many years come to pass I will always be a little girl at heart. Where do I feel safe now that Iím an adult with tiring responsibilities, and all the strings that come attached with becoming independent? I feel safe in the comfort of my old bedroom, in my parentsí house of course. There has never been anywhere as safe as that comfortable, warm and inviting place where I grew up.

The house itself as I approach gives me a feeling of security, stability and protection. Its peach colored walls make me relax as memories of my childhood years flood into my mind. The chipped looking paint gives it character instead of making it look drably and old. As I walk to the house, I start smelling all the fragrances of flowers. There are orchids, daisies and roses all through the balcony. All the colors from the flowers just add to my sense of safety as those pinks, yellows, reds and purples play in my eyes and trigger happy thoughts.

I enter the house and the smell of bitter coffee permeates the air, triggering my old young self into being again. The staircase, as always, is decorated with flowers according to the season. I go up the stairs feeling in the palm of my hand the smooth, cool surface of the baluster as I hang on to it as if in a dream of my carefree days. The steps make their screeching sounds as the weight of my body pushes against them. Then at the top of the stairs I see my room.

The door is open, letting the cool breeze from the hallway windows into the room keeping it fresh and comfortable. The room is painted a nice dark shade of green and the ceiling a lighter degradation of the same color, making me feel as if nature itself has taken over the room. My bed, a small twin bed, which seems to me big enough to carry all the problems that could be in my life at the moment, is sitting near the far right corner. The light yellow bed covers look fresh and cool, inviting me to lie down to feel its comforting embrace. All of my stuffed toys are scattered through the room, but each in its proper place according to my infantile mind of days gone by. My desk, right across the room from my bed, is neatly organized with papers, books and notebooks now belonging to my father.

As I lie down in bed, the smell of freshly washed covers swifts into my nose. I stare at all my old books, figurines and knick knacks on the wall shelves and let slumber take over me. All the colors in my room are so perfect together that I cannot help but to feel safe and protected from all the ugliness in my life and world. As I fall to sleep, all I can see in my mind are the childhood memories that will not return, but only in my dreams. Dreams filled with pinks, yellows, greens and purples.

11:12 pm - 24 May 2004


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