Life is too short...

Life is too short to not have a room to call your own.

Introducing my newly-cleaned, organized, and decorated room.

After sleeping in Emily's room since the accident, and really only using my room as a place to journal/think/cry, I'm ready to move back in. I've been sleeping by myself for a month now, which is monumental in itself, but moving back in here feels monstrous.

It's weird to think that the last time I slept in here I was woken up by my dad and told that Micah was in an accident. My mind drifts there sometimes, and then I feel a little panicky and nauseous and scared. But generally I am comforted by the fact that of course Micah would me to be back in the room where we often hung out---and just like when I first cleaned it, the good memories far outweigh the bad ones. After all, this is where I spent every night sleeping when Micah was alive and we were together--in that sense, as simple as it is, doesn't that bring me a little closer to him? It's comforting to be near the normal life that once was.

Tomorrow I'm presenting the children's story at my church. For the first Sunday of Lent, the theme is "holding on and letting go." I thought about that today as I cleaned my room. I'm moving back into my room, holding tightly to the memories in here, yet also cleaning away the dust, throwing away the unwanted's. Maybe allowing myself to let go, piece by piece, also allows me in the end to hold on tighter to the things I cherish.