I'm having a semi-strange day.

Do you ever look in the mirror sometimes and wonder who you are, wonder whose face that is because it must not be your own?
I had that moment today. And I realized why I felt that way. Because the person I have been seeing was a youth, a child still and today that was gone....and the person I saw was an adult. I know these bones, this skin, these eyes, are the same ones I have grown up with but....they are different somehow as well. Somehow they no longer match.
It is a strange experience.
Even my voice....but then your spoken voice seldom matches the one in your head. It is just...strange. Suddenly is like "So this is adulthood."

It really hit me when I lay back on my bed, looked up at the ceiling and noticed the hole...the hole where my Harry Potter Quidditch mobile used to hang. It was when my room was different, when I had been in here after my brother Rob had had it so it was still the same black shelves and desk left over from him but with my old fashioned metal bed. I had Harry Potter posters on the wall, one of them a Voldemort poster that I took down because my aversion to eyes was rather strong still and that poster was creepy. I used to have my shelves with my horses on them that had to be in such an exact order according to breed, family relation in my horse stories and if it was new or not. I had the funny grey loop rug for carpet things got stuck in easily but was good for making toys stand up. Memory blends and I remember the old computer Ray had given me with the John Howe Gandalf background that I loved. I remember always having my radio on and then hearing Frank Sinatra and the oldies on Sunday mornings. I remember pushing through the Lord of the Rings books and how it seemed to take forever with No Doubt playing on the radio. I remember the summer sun through the windows and my sperm whale stained glass piece that I swore would be in the window of every bedroom I would ever have.
It's funny how this room felt so much bigger then.

Now...it's different. There are traces of the past but few. Mostly they are newer things and from highschool or maybe before, things from my mom such as the furniture, artwork, the glass case full of Breyer horses, the Harry Potter books, the china doll from my Grandma Joan, my precious Willy and Jingles stuffed animals tucked next to me on my bed, small things. But for the most part childhood is gone. More fragile furniture, less playful, temporary....CLEAN! At least clean for me considered I am a woman who has always lived in and between piles.
Even my piles of notebooks are shuttered away down in the basement.
It is so strange...this growing thing.

I don't really know what else to say.
~Lo