As Real As It May Seem

When I was eighteen and moving out on my own, out of the only home I'd ever known, for the first time my mother waited exactly five days to rearrange my bedroom. Not because I wouldn't be back for holidays and summer (because I was, and more) but because she wanted room for her "crafts." Not like witch craft, think dried flowers and hot glue guns and paints, oh my!

It would be putting it mildly to say I was offended. I felt like that was still my territory and though she took care to put everything back where it was upon each and every one of my returns, I still felt like it was being taken away from me. Did she know me at all? Did she know I was in college! For the first time! In a dorm room! With people I didn't know! Going to classes! Really tough classes! With a lot of reading! With all this new pressure! And though in my mind I knew I could always go home, in my heart I felt like I had no place to go. Nothing was mine anymore. My belongings consisted of clothing, books, Target bedding, a shower caddy and a mini fridge. Nothing was the same.

Eventually, I settled into this new life. And by settled I mean tried out three colleges before I found one I liked, but that's beside the point. I started to accumulate things little by little which eventually found their way into an apartment with a roommate and a shower with shelves where you didn't have to ever move your soap if you didn't want to. It felt good to have my own space and I embraced the independence. This, apparently, was the signal flare my mother was waiting for to GIVE AWAY MY CHILDHOOD FURNITURE.

Yes, that's right, give it away. The bed that I slept in for fifteen years. The dresser in which I'd so carefully inscribed the lyrics to my favorite Debbie Gibson songs with a permanent marker because I was just so into her music. The night stand where the photo of my very first boyfriend stood, even after we'd parted ways. And she wanted to give it all away. "Because they need it more than we do" she'd say. "Because you have ABSOLUTELY NO SENTIMENTAL VALUE ON ANYTHING!" I'd accuse.

It seems a little silly now but at the time, that furniture was mine. It was the only thing I could think of that represented me and the fact that I'd lived in that house for eighteen years. It held memories and at twenty-one when just about everything felt new and uncomfortable, that stuff was old and accepting. A constant.

It took me a long time to get over that. The furniture was nothing spectacular and mom was even kind enough to hold off for a few months while I got used to the idea. But that's how long it took for me to realize that it wasn't the stuff I missed, it was the familiarity.

Today, thinking back on that, I completely understand. I didn't want a beat up dresser, she's Deb-ra Gibson now anyway. I didn't need a bed that was three inches too short. It was the familiarity, that's all. And that's who I am. I need familiar things. I need a center in the midst of the spinning circus that life can become. So when something familiar comes back to me, I can't help but give it a special place in my heart. But now, I have experience on my side. I know that "familiar" doesn't necessarily mean "fit."

When I graduated from college and landed my first big-girl job, my mother bought me a new bedroom set. It's big and beautiful and made of heavy pine. Sure, there are no frames of first loves adorning the shelves but it's got it's own story. A newer one, a less familiar one. One in which the best is just yet to be.

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And now, the soundtrack to a fifth grade broken heart:

Debbie Gibson, Only In My Dreams

every time i'm telling secrets
i remember how it used to be
and i realized how much i miss you
and i realize how it feels to be free

now i see i'm up to no good (no, no, no)
and i wanna start again
can't remember when i felt good (baby)
no i can't remember when

chorus:
no, only in my dreams
as real as it may seem
it was only in my dreams

couldn't see how much i missed you (now i do)
couldn't see how much it meant
now i see my world come tumbling down
now i see the road is bent

if i only once could hold you (no, no, no)
and remember how it used to be
if only i could scold you
and forget how it feels to be free

no, only in my dreams
as real as it may seem
it was only in my dreams