Area Rugs in Seattle
When I was a little girl, my mom repainted my room every few years. What started out as a garden became a stable, complete with paneled walls, a painted horse, and a pasture fenced off by two-by-fours. My brother’s room was even more impressive: rough blocks of carefully outlined stone were hung with hand-sewn royal banners, while one wall boasted great arched windows that let young princes gaze out over the rolling green hills, fluttering fairies, and a shadowy dragon that made up the kingdom. After the castle came detailed movie characters, a looming science-fiction sigil, and racks of martial arts weapons and flags. These were our glory days, and we clung to them as if tightening our grip would stave off the boring, single-colored walls of an adult’s bland bedroom.
Then came the Move. The house our parents chose was a pastry of creams and tans, with smaller rooms they said would do until we found a larger place to stay. One month later, my things were once again packed and whisked off to another state for the infamous dorm room. When I returned for the summer, the house hunt was on the verge of completion. Within weeks, piles of cardboard boxes lay in every room, waiting patiently to be filled for the short journey across town, where they would be unpacked, narrowed down, and shipped back to school for the next semester as I looked for area rugs in Seattle.
Gone are the days of lifelike horses and textured castle walls. The supplies I pack for school must fit in a single large box and be sturdy enough to survive the plane and car rides to and from campus. That first semester, I thought that meant my dorm room would be the adult room of my childhood nightmares—but with an art major for a roommate, I should have known better than to fear. Up went the Edison bulb string lights, down went the rug, and within an hour we had the coziest room on campus. My good friend may have had the TV and gaming consoles, but ours was the warm bungalow that took people’s breath away.
Until I have a place of my own, I doubt I will fully unpack my bedroom decorations again—putting them back in boxes is too much of a hassle. It’s hard to believe that it took a year-long whirlwind of moves and half-moves to figure out what made those grown-up bedrooms so scary as a kid. The problem wasn’t the boring paint or the bland furniture; it was the lack of life.
Decor is what turns a house into a home, or a dorm room into a cozy retreat from college insanity. It doesn’t have to be cluttered or expensive: if it fits in a single sturdy box and lets someone forget the world for a while, it’s good enough for me.