My Own Room

My older sister got married at the young age of seventeen. She was in love and that worked for her. I hoped that it meant me getting my own room. It didn't happen right away. The two youngest brothers moved into her room for a while because they needed to be close to Mom. Once the youngest brother was old enough to move out of the crib I was sure it was my turn to take that room over. I begged and pleaded. By this time I had another even younger sister. My Mom said that she was destined to move into that room when she was big enough to move out of the bassinet that was in her room. I didn't care I thought it would be great to have my own room. I shared a room with my two just younger than me brothers. They and I had spent plenty of time together. All of our underwear and socks were basically shared because when the laundry was done we couldn't tell them apart. No one had a different size waist and all of our feet were basically the same size so it was easiest just to buy it all in bulk. I wanted a way out of this arrangement. I turned seventeen and was a senior in high school when I made the move. The youngest two brothers had to move in with their older brothers and I moved in to my own room. This did not last long. My youngest sister moved in to the crib and I was again sharing a room. My sister was a fairly good sleeper. I would get in bed later than she and so I couldn't turn on the light for fear that I would wake her up. On the weekends when I could sleep in she would be up with the sun and pull herself up and then look at me and yell my name. This is how she would wake me up. Every time she woke up before me she would pull herself up and then yell my name. If I was still tired and wanted to sleep I would pick her up and walk her across the hall to my parents room, open up their door and drop her right inside the door. Then I would go back to bed. I shared a room with her for two years and as she grew she would put more words together. She would tell me stories and I would try to sleep. She would insist I listen. She would sing songs and jump on the crib or play with a doll or stuffed animal. I would try to sleep. She eventually won and I moved out to again share a room with other people while serving as a missionary. My younger brother just younger than me moved into the room that I had occupied and for months he was woken up to my youngest sister yelling my name.