Room Writer

All the things, clean and collecting dust, has a story. As I scan through the things I need to take, the things I need to give, and the things I need to sell, before I move out, I can’t help but reminisce. The table which I now use as an additional countertop for my kitchen was the first ever piece of furniture that I brought into this house. It was a free item just outside, probably kept by the people who just moved out. As I was moving in with my baggage, I saw this table and asked my Uber driver if that’s free to take. He said yes and then helped me take it into my new home. That day, I remember sitting on the table, cross-legged and eating my first ever meal in that house.

The mirror hanging by my door was the first thing I brought from a nearby Target, after I moved in there. I remember this particularly because I carried it all the way, on foot. My hands were slippery and hurting, but somehow, I made it. It was all worth it when I could finally do a fit check before going out.

I remember the DIY study table, chair, and the dresser, that I bought on Amazon. How delicately I tightened the screws with nothing but an L-shaped metal thing that comes with the kit. It was so satisfying to see my hard work taking shape. Oh, that feeling when I finally sat on the chair and read a book by the table. How I couldn’t decide what to put in each drawer of the dressing.

My dearest possession here is my bike. When I first moved in, I had nothing but a train pass and my feet to get me to places. It wasn’t bad, partly because I hardly had time or energy to think what I was missing out. Then one day, as I was looking for places to visit on weekends, I suddenly realized if I had a bike, it would be so much easier to explore. My partner agreed without a second thought, and we went to Walmart, by train and a bus, and rode the bike all the way through the bridges and busy roads to the train station, hauled it inside the train and brought it home. Since then, all we did on weekends was explored on our bike. It took us to places we never would have seen otherwise. It opened up new doors to multiple adventures, which can be another story on its own.

I also remember the knick-knacks of the things that I picked up on the curb or the lobby, when I finally realized how often people give away their stuff for free. Like my microwave, bedside tables, and lamp are living their second life in our home. I also cannot forget my first plant I brought as my prized possession, when I moved in here- a cactus. Yes, a thorny little plant that has now grown to be so tall that I have to place the pot against the wall for support. That big dining of ours, considering how small other furniture look in front of it, was also something that gave us joy in this house-those hot meals that we ate together to the dough we made for pies. A part of the dining table now also stores some vitamins, some banana, some water bottles and a box of tissues.

It hurts to write about things that hold so much space in my heart will be gone. It hurts more to think that those things will be replaced soon by new possessions, that I will be emotionally attached to again. I guess this is life, constantly changing, malleable, plastic, call it whatever. Things come and go, it hurts. Is it better than losing someone? Most definitely, yes. But is it better than not losing at all?…….