An Empty Space

Just a few days ago my room mate moved out of our room. I didn't realize what him leaving meant until he was gone, until I walked into a room that was more than half empty.

Do you remember your first room mate?

I don't know if I ever spent time in a hospital's nursery or not, but as I recall, my first room mate was my brother. Throughout the whole time that my brother and I shared a room I wanted to move out. I used to enjoy the activities we did like playing cards or building with Lego's, but some part of me always wanted a place that I could call my own.

When I finally did get a room, I got what I titled the Jail Cell. I didn't name the room this because it was depressing or a place I was locked in; rather, I named it this way because of its size, seven feet by twelve feet.

The Jail Cell was amazing. I got to do what I wanted to in my own room without disturbance and without someone invading it. While I have always been envious of my siblings bedrooms' sizes, a room of my own is a room of my own.

I thought this feeling would continue in college; I thought I would come to enjoy a room to myself.



Well, it turned out that I was assigned to a suite. When I arrived, I hauled my luggage up to my room and upon opening the door I met my room mate. He was alright, more then I could have hoped for (I excepted some drug addict, nudist, heavy chain smoker, or some other college nightmare). We didn't talk much, and when we did conversation was...light.

Then the paper work was filed. He wanted to switch out for some medical reasons and I was also suggested to switch out. He was the first to move. The university sent him an e-mail kindly asking him to get out by 2p.m. the next day. When I came back from classes his side of the room was empty. Everything was gone.

I can't say I miss him, but I miss the colors and the decorations. A double room with one person in it isn't too exciting. I now await a similar e-mail. I await the command to leave home, to move. :-/