To A Place Unexpected

After catching up with a friend in town, I swung the car around into its old spot on the island.  Nobody was home tonight, so I let myself in with my key from the combination vault.  Upstairs, I glanced around my old room wryly.  Not a thing of mine lying around.  My bed, stripped of its comforts.  Not my bed.  

Last Saturday I had cleared my few wall decorations from the room.  Those consisted of a George MacDonald poem at the head of my bed, some painted wooden fans from Spain at the foot, and some concert tickets & posters on my door.  In other words, as I told my pun-loving roommate, "I took the fans off the wall, and the fan paraphernalia off the door, haha."  But I forgot one thing until tonight.  On the inward side of the door hung my sign from last Christmas-- "To a Place Unexpected"--made for a fan video for Downhere's song, "How Many Kings." The old yellowish paper matched the door beautifully.  Sad, because now I wanted it for my new house.  The tape rasped gently as I pulled the paper away.

Then, with an odd pang, I stopped and pressed it back to the wood.  It matched the door so well.  It belonged there. It belongs to my memory of the room.  It's mysterious and nice-looking, so maybe other renters will let it stay, too.  If I leave that one piece of me there, I might not forget the journey I travelled during my stay there.