My older cousin was moving into our house for a while, and I was to give up my bedroom to her. In exchange, my mom moved me into what had been the ‘sick’ room down the hallway from their upstairs bedroom! Oh joys…..permanent residence in the one room in the house that carried with it such bad memories as the vomiting flu, fevers and nightmares.
Our trip to Faith Farm was to pick out ‘special’ furniture to ‘fix up’ my new bedroom. I was not thrilled and I am sure thinking back now that my mother probably had some guilt moving me out of the only bedroom I had ever known. I don’t remember picking out furniture, but I do remember the day when I came home from school and was presented my new room. My mother had tried so hard to make it nice for me. She had taken the dresser, nightstand out back and given it a white paint job. There was seriously cheapo blue carpeting on the grown and the bed frame was a dark wood, four poster high sitting frame. I stood there and made the decision to love it. Not because it was beautiful, but because I knew that my mother had worked so hard to try and make it nice. I appreciated that more than I disliked the room.