My bedroom switch

Cornfields rolled by for miles on both sides of the car.

I was on my way home to good old West Bloomfield, Mich., for Thanksgiving, and there was nothing to do but think about the week ahead. I was itching to bust through the door of the house I grew up in, run into my parents’ arms and collapse into the same bed I had been sleeping in since I was a little girl.

This past Thanksgiving break, I slept in my childhood bed, but the room that bed was tossed into along with everything else from my bedroom (and it was, literally, tossed) was definitely not the same one I remembered.   

My two younger sisters had always been jealous of my bedroom. It’s the size of their two combined and has a beautiful view of the woods behind our house. When my family first moved into our house, there was no need to draw straws. I would get the biggest room because I was the oldest, and my youngest sister, now 13, wasn’t even born yet to protest.

So, naturally, since the day I was accepted to IU, my 16-year-old sister has been daydreaming about the color she would paint the room and the way she would rearrange my furniture.

This saga began last year when I came home from college for the first time since move-in day at Briscoe Residence Center. I spent a few moments trying to remember what my bedroom looked like before its extreme makeover.

The color scheme was completely different, there were new pieces of furniture I didn’t recognize, and a queen-size bed mocked me from the far right corner where my twin-size bed had been. I had heard rumors about the change, but nothing prepared me for this.

My belongings were thrown carelessly into what used to be my sister’s room. My mom, who felt bad that my room had been hijacked by my sister hours after I left home for orientation in August, made my bed and left a note on a pillow welcoming me back from school.

I did feel welcomed at home. But my bedroom was definitely not welcoming. In fact, I think Harry Potter’s bedroom was more welcoming than mine.

I’ve been home a few times since the big bedroom switch, and each time I see the magnificent job my sister did with the decoration of her new room, I feel myself growing less bitter. I’ve even stopped shuddering at the thought of spending the night in a pile of belongings (though efforts have been made to beautify the pile). Honestly, it made sense for her to have the bigger bedroom. She still lives at home.

When all of us return home again for winter break, we should probably cut our families some slack.

Change is natural, and just because we’re off doing big things at college doesn’t mean they should sit home waiting around for us.

We should let them do big things too, even if those big things involve taking over our big bedrooms.