I watched her and her mother decorate her college dormitory1 room. Everything in place organized and arranged, just so. Attractively designed bulletin2 board with carefully selected, and precisely cut, colored paper. Pictures and remembrances3 throughout of her dearest friends. Drawers and boxes under the bed. Her room nicely amodates not only her clothes, accessories and bric-a-brac, but her roommate’s as well. I closely monitor that which I would have, in the past, ignored, knowing that this time is different. As her half of the room takes on her essence, I begin to accept that her room at home is no longer hers.