I don't have a lot of 15 year old girls to compare her to, except maybe myself at that age, but let me just say this about that: this is a serious present. Or, as Bob remarked, "you're a brave woman."
The other part of this birthday present is that I did not take "before" pictures. Good Lord what packrat. This is not to say I don't completely regret not holding on to so many of the pictures and notes and mementos of my younger days, but there comes a point when you have to ask yourself, how exactly does a shoe box, shoved far back under the bed behind 6 others, not to mention the detritus of crap in between them, contain a half drunken water bottle, one sock, two ponytail holders, and an empty picture frame? I mean, how does that happen? Is there a moment when, staring at an empty box, one chooses to place these items side by side in an solemn ritual of hoarding? It mystifies me.
So here, then, are the after photos, taken because I have a feeling within minutes of her arrival back home, it will never look the same. And for that, I am actually thankful. My whirling dervish has been missed this weekend.
All the laundry (weeks worth piled in the blue chair) has been sorted, folded, hung, or tucked into drawers that I completely emptied and resorted. Look at all those little t-shirts fit neatly into one place. Miraculous!
Things ON hangers IN the closet! Mind-blowing!
The bookcase was a cornerstone to this project. She's got twice the books that should be on here. And that bottom shelf is entirely journals and stories she's written. The pile of magazines in front of it are the one piece of the puzzle she'll have to complete. Can we get rid of the Vanity Fair with Heath Ledger on the cover? We'll see.
The bed is MADE! All the pillow shams match. There aren't 12 half-drunk water bottles on the table. I say again, miraculous. Now I just need my girl home to fill the space with her wonderful, messy, artistic spirit again. Two hours to go. . .
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