i climbed up the stairs
to view my room for the last time
my bedroom of nearly 18 years
now a bare recollection
there are so few traces of me in this room now
its baby blue walls covered up by an expressionless tan
the years of photos peeled away
the contents sifted through
until my belongings, my memories, my life
could somehow fit into cardboard boxes and black trash bags
all that remains are the sporadic splotches of teal left on the baseboards
or the slight indentations on the carpeting of where my bed had rested
the bed my father tucked me into every night for years
and the one on which my dog gleefully greeted me every morning, propping his chin against the mattress
i glanced out the window
the window i once tapped on to say goodnight to my mother while she sat outside
looking out onto the yard i once played cheerfully in, catching lighting bugs on the first days of summer
i realize now how small this room is
i hadn't noticed over all of these years
how cramped it truly is
it never felt that way