Kids

We shared a room when we were kids. 
Jumped bed to bed because the floor was lava.
We made pillow forts and haunted houses when we had bunk beds.
Ghostbusters and Ninja Turtles.
Wrestle mania, Brother.
We had robots on border wallpaper around the middle of the room. 
Mom used to yell at us to "GO. TO. SLEEP!"
Laughing at stupid jokes and farts.
Remember when we’d throw that old football pillow across the room at each other in the dark?
Remember the owl that nested in the big tree outside our window?
You would get sick sometimes and couldn’t breathe.
That was scary.
So sometime Mom or Dad would sleep in our room with us.

Then, when I was going into 4th grade, you into 3rd, we moved…
We got a bigger room!
Same color yellow.
More room for toys, desks, and whatever.
Your army men we tied to plastic bags and pretended they were parachutes. 
They'd float to the ground from our second story window.
​Neighborhood kids slept over.
Bill, who never went home.
We got a big stereo for Christmas that one year.
No Doubt, Tragic Kingdom, All-4-One, Buckshot LeFonque.
Music filled our souls and every corner of our room.
But the street light was always too bright in our window.
And there was traffic all night.
The sounds and lights of emergency vehicles was scary at first.
But to this day, when I need to find a peaceful place in my head, I think about our room and  being curled up on my bed; and gazing at the traffic light down the block.
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The last time we shared a room, I was almost in high school, and you had to leave with Mom.
Our room was too big when you were gone.
All the space we made for fun things felt cold and useless.
My bad dreams came more often.
I just wanted things back to normal; when we were kids and our knees had scabs on them.
When night-time wasn’t scary because you were there with me.
I didn’t want my own room even though at one point I might have said I did.
Our house was too empty without our family.
Our room wasn't crowded enough.
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We have always been close. 
I haven’t had to do anything alone. Ever.
You are my best friend.
I know it wasn’t always perfect.
I know there are things I regret doing or saying.
I can’t take any of it back.
I hope you don’t resent me in any way, because this, better than anything, is what I remember about growing up.
Sharing a room with you.