A Room of One’s Own

Virginia Woolf was right: All a woman needs to write fiction is a little money and a room of one’s own. Or in my case, write nonfiction (or edit it) and a room of one’s own. Whether temporary or not.

You see, my eldest child moved out of the house this past weekend. She is educated and now fully employed and had the opportunity to share a nice, small home with a friend. She had been yearning for her independence for some time, but stuck it through in this house filled with chaos until she was able to afford a place of her own.

Now, her old room is empty, except for an old dresser, a small TV and a small student’s desk on which I write this. The desk is situated below a window that faces our backyard and the neighbors’ yards, with a hill behind them. A not bad view at all.

So it is here that I sit and write and where I will work until the room is painted and filled with the items that define a teenage boy–PlayStation and music and clothes strewn on the floor–as my elder son will be claiming this space as his own shortly. He is happy, his little brother is happy (they, for the first times in their lives, will finally get their own rooms) and I am happy for them. But I will be losing this nice little nook in which to have a quiet space to work–with only the whirr of my laptop fan and the tweets and squeaks of the birds outside my window for sound.

I can get used to this. But what brought me here will take greater acclimation, for the reason the room is so empty and so quiet and, for this blip of a moment in time, mine, is because my eldest child is gone. It won’t be long before daughter number two, then son number one, and finally (good God, no) my younger boy are packed up and moved–across town, across the state, across the country. Where their lives lead them is for now a mystery.

All I know is that one got away, but she’s close enough to visit regularly. I must learn to relish her independence and savor the moments I still have with the other three. And enjoy the view from my little window, which too soon will pass.

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