It started out as a monument to
Minnie Mouse. Her image was
splayed across my pillow, folded into a blanket at the foot of my bed, framed
by white plastic on my wall. She
twirled in a slow dance when I wound the silver knob on my jewelry box, which
always stood open atop the crackled white dresser that was Jennifer’s, then
Brooke’s, and now mine. The round,
navy blue beanbag—hugged in the tight corner between my little white craft
table with two red chairs and the door to my narrow closet—was reserved as a
spot for reading the best books and was permanently imprinted by the curve of
my back and the indentations my knees made when I sat criss-cross-applesauce.
The cracked and peeling dresser and
tiny table were replaced a few years later by freshly coated, shiny white furniture,
custom designed and built in Mexico, which included a dresser, desk, and bed
frame. Everything was a pristine
white and it all looked so heavenly and clean. I admired the intricate lines carved into the headboard for
a short while before smothering it with various fluffy pillows and a “princess”
mosquito net canopy. The purple
and pink pillows matched the blooming flowers on my bedspread and the lavender sky
against which they blossomed. I
would often sit on top of the bed and draw the hanging canopy around me in a
cocoon, pretending I was hidden in the depths of a beautiful garden, smelling
the grass and flowers, about to emerge as a butterfly.
The only evidence left of the
princess net is a small hole in the ceiling directly above my bed, where the
sturdy hook once suspended it in the air.
The new cushiony carpet that squishes between my toes is slightly
covered by a red circle rug that matches the red centers of the enormous black
daisies set against the white background of my bedspread. The flattened and worn beanbag has been
replaced by a proper chair that rocks slightly, with a seat deep enough for me
to cross my legs when I sit and read the best books. I painted the wall behind my headboard a brilliant red. It took several coats to cover up the
tickle-me-pink. I painted it all
on my own, which is obvious to anyone who beholds my unfortunate masterpiece. The spackled texture of the wall gave
me trouble, made it impossible to paint a smooth continuous line. The excitement of the splattering paint
and the accomplishment I felt has thankfully lasted much longer than the
splotches of red that dotted my hair and skin.
The movie posters carefully
arranged on the wall opposite my luminescent, double-paned window represent a
long summer of collecting and negotiating with eBay merchants. I tried to get most my favorite movies
on the wall, but Newsies, The Goonies, and The Avengers have yet to make appearances. My collection continues as my
preferences grow with me. Framed
above the window is a horizontal photograph of the Hollywood sign, which I
purchased on a family trip to Hollywood.
It seemed fitting to pay tribute to the city where movies begin, the
birthplace of what I consider my passion.
<3 Mel
