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 d

I started thinking of my dad getting up on all those cold winter nights when I was a child. It was my job to bring in enough firewood to keep the wood stove going all night since it was the only source of heat we had. I remember my dad coming to my room and saying, “Boy you better get-out there and get more wood before it gets too late.” I recall, as though it was last night, my dad getting up in the middle of the night to put more wood on the fire so the house would not get too cold. I woke up some nights and saw him walking into the living room, where the heater was, because it was right next to my room. My door was always open to let the heat in to warm my room. I always felt good when he would look into my room and check on me. If I was awake, he would say “You better get some sleep boy, we got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

As I was falling into a slumber, I had a smile on my face from all of the memories that came from this special place. Even though the bed is lumpy and the room is small, I truly feel calm, safe and happy. I can still feel the love from my family, as well as remember my hopes and dreams for the future. That little room will always be special to me because it was more than just four walls. It was a place where many of my childhood memories were born and grew as I grew. I know that I will hold this place, and it’s cherished, memories in my heart for ever.

It also protected me from the outside bullies like David Runion. David was always trying to pick on me and start a fight. My dad always told me that if I got a whooping by bullies, then I would get another one from him when I got home. When I got a whipping at school (from a teacher), I had to stay in my room until dad got home. Then I would get another whipping from him as well. My bedroom was like a dungeon while waiting for dad. During those times my room became the smallest room in the house. The wait was the worst part, even worse than the whipping itself. I went over and over my speech in front of the dresser mirror about what I would say to my dad. It always sounded better in the mirror than when I really told him.

I remember all too well my mom getting up in the middle of stormy nights to wake us. During bad weather my mom would wake us kids up to get dressed in case there was a tornado, which happened quite often in O

Some topics in this essay:
, Runion David, Patricia Miller, bed handed, deep impressions, dad getting, hear dad, dad’s shoes, getting middle, christmas morning, home whipping, pump outside, bedroom floor,