After an eight-hour drive, I arrive at home for a well-deserved vacation. I spend a little time with my family before going to my old bedroom and lie down. Lying there in my old bedroom brought back many memories from my childhood. I will never forget that old bed that was handed down through the family, and all the cold nights I slept in it. I can almost see myself shining dad's Sunday shoes or sharpening his knife there on the bedroom floor that dad and I replaced. I reach back and feel my rear end and think of all the whippings that I got in that room. I can close my eyes and hear my dad working on the pump outside on one frozen Christmas morning. My bedroom was the place of many memories, good and bad, that I will hold in my heart forever. .
My room has not changed over the years, the old chest of drawers standing there showing the wear from all the use. My bedroom has three windows on the south and west walls, a door into the living room on the east wall, and another on the north wall that lead into another bedroom. My bed was one of the original feather beds that sat on top of open springs. The bed was handed down to my parents from my grandparents on my mom's side. The right and left side of the mattress had deep impressions, about three inches, from all the people that have slept on it over the years. It looked like waves in the ocean since both sides had deep impressions. The bed was full size, and it sat up against the west wall under windows since the room was so small. I slept many a cold night under homemade quilts made from scraps of multicolored cloth saved by grandma. Grandma made all of us grandchildren a quilt from different colored and shapes she cut out of clothes that we had out grown. Some mornings it was so cold that I didn't want to get out from under the five blankets and quilts that laid over me. When I woke up, I had that nice soft warmth around me on that slumped side of the bed.