I look around and it’s like a faded snapshot from so very long ago. Some things I don’t even really recognize anymore.
Bed unmade, blankets all bunched up at the end of the bed and hanging off. No fitted sheet in sight and a pillow that looks all turned inside out.
Stuffed animals all over the floor and the bed as well, some of them looking as if they had been dropped at the last minute as a child was playing with them before running off for something else.
Marbles in a little pile on an old re-purposed shelf, the paint on it making it more at ease in a toddler’s nursery than the eight-year-old’s shared room. Shiny rocks, some polished, others only glittering when the light hits them just right.
Books stacked in a precarious stack leaning over. A good gust of wind and the pile will fall onto some unprepared head. It’s fallen over more than once already…
Pictures taped up on the walls showing different things: animals and pictures of Christ, quotes in different styles and even a cards scattered around.
Only my things catch my eyes as everything else seems blurry to my mind’s eyes and even those things of mine start to blur around the edges after a few moment.
This memory was brought to you by FreeWriteFriday’s prompt from a week and a half ago.