It’s not what I envisioned when I was living in the brick house, but it doesn’t suck. The walls are plain white, no Lego-inspired color schemes (but, you know, that’s flexible); there’s a bunk bed, a beanbag, some bookshelves (pre-stocked already with a few decent titles, but awaiting his tastes), a dresser, some stuff on the walls.
The pride of placement is the torchiére in the corner, which has a lava lamp fixture in its shaft. I mean, how could I not? Lava lamps am teh kewl.
Remember when I mentioned the infestation of stuffed animals? You didn’t think I was joking, did you?
Except here it looks like a Night of the Living Stuffed horror movie…
A dresser, with globe, boxes and a coin bank. The bank is pretty neat. You drop a coin in, and it rolls and clatters, and deposits it (usually correctly) into its designated slot.
And here, in the closet, Legos. Of course. Legos. And an AirZooka too, and a couple electronics kits. I didn’t include the sadly empty space overhead with open hangers, awaiting his clothing.
(This was all done with my $15 FlatCam. I really like using the Nikon D50, but it’s at work. Sigh. BTW and FTR, I know there’s a kind of hidden duel going on in the digital SLR world — buy the Nikon. You’re not just getting the name. The optics and CCD are superior.)
In odd moments I catch myself going into his room, rattling through the drawers for no reason, opening and closing the closet, flicking on the light, looking out his window.
It’s a too-quiet space. It needs a laugh, a boister, an energetic little kid bouncing on the mattresses, making a fort.
Making it alive.
And, when it’s very late at night, sometimes I sit on the floor by his bed, and wonder what it will be like to have him there, sleeping calmly.
My loneliness will not, cannot be assuaged by a child. But with a child, yes, my life will have a meaning I think it has lacked.
Yoshi boy: Come home.
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