It's quiet in the house. Everyone has left for work. She is alone. The floors squeak as she takes a step forward. The tea kettle whistles softly. She reaches for her favorite mug. It's big and unique looking, but it's her favorite. "Mmm" she says as she takes a sip. Sunlight peeks through the curtains in the living room. She has no desire to watch TV or turn on any music. She hobbles back to her room. As she sits on her bed, tea cup in both hands, she drifts off into her imagination. There's total silence. She looks straight ahead, noticing the many pictures surrounding her room. Smiling faces of people she once knew. Knick-knacks stand on her television, desk, and dresser, artifacts and crystals are reflected by the sunlight. Memories of her childhood comes to mind; she remembers when she received each knick-knack. She remembers who she was when receiving her first quartz crystal. The joy in the 8 year old eyes, a great deal of gratitude to her mom who helped start her first rock collection.
A stack of CDs stand in the corner of the room. Music she doesn't listen to often, but filled with memories of her time with her dad. The stories he told about each artist, the way times were then, how he felt during those times. It was like a treasure box filled with goodies only he shared with her. Remembrance of a time when he felt whole, when he gave himself to this country. He is history. Then there's the hanging of various necklaces surrounding her room. All gifts from her mom, friends, students, colleagues, exes, people. Each necklace tells a story of herself, each having ownership of a time period she once knew, molding her into the woman she is today. The heirlooms from her late grandmother, a woman of pride and strength. She gave her the greatest gift, a bracelet that represented love. She wipes away a tear.
She finishes her tea. The room is silent. She is silent.