The cat stands in the doorway looking in. She blinks as she
takes in the quiet and tidy room with the sunlight pouring through the window.
Once, this was a room that was perpetually in disarray. Scattered
across the floor, it had layers and layers of recently worn or once-tried-on and
discarded clothes. The window sills were littered with plates with partially-eaten
food and mostly-empty soda bottles. There were old homework assignments strewn
around and novels with their bookmarks askew and lying on the floor. Everywhere
there were make-up containers, unmatched shoes and socks, and backpacks with
contents seemingly flying out of them. Open sketch pads and pencils were all
about and there were stark and striking portraits in graphite peeking through
the debris. Brushes and hair-straighteners
still “on” were sitting on the floor near the mirror. A computer, phone, and
several textbooks were among the rumpled sheets, pillows, blankets and
comforter heaped on the bed. And artifacts from a childhood still dotted the
shelves.
Now the room is silent. The floor is swept and bare and the
bed is made and tidy. The closet and bookshelves are mostly empty and recently
dusted. All is clean and neat. The girl who once lived here now lives 2200
miles away at a college in the Midwest.
The cat and I, we miss the mess. Especially, we both miss
the girl who made it.
