Moving is always a difficult time. It takes its toll on each individual in such a unique way. All throughout my first year of high school my family and I were trying to sell our house. I found that my once minimalistic room could now pass for a pre-set room, usually found in an IKEA or a furniture magazine. It had been years since I had decorated my room. At first, I rejected it. I would try to pinpoint every minuscule item that I hated it. I wasn’t used to having things like curtains, a set of decorative pillows, or a color theme. I started to feel like the room was a prop.

I realized that at some point I unknowingly became attached to the décor. In the present day, I can say that my new room doesn’t have a color theme but it does have décor I never would imagine I’d have. I have not one, but two overflowing bookshelves. I also have a dresser, a futon, a television, and two table stands. Yet, the most important décor found in my room is my late grandmother’s first painting. When I was a little girl I would spend the afternoons watching my grandmother learned how to paint. She would always update me on what she had learned from her art classes. She even taught me how to paint a gorgeous painting of the sea. While I do not know where my painting is, I will always have her painting by my side. I understand now that neither the quantity nor the theme of décor is significant. Instead, it is the feelings that arise when looking it.