On the first day, I walked in with buckets of paint and brushes. I set them all down on the bare floor and opened them up one by one. Red, blue, green, yellow, black, pink, purple, colors you wouldn’t even find names for. I took the first brush and dipped it slowly, gently, into the first can. I pulled it back up, the rich color dripping from the other end, and lifted it up to the plain white walls. The first stroke, the beginning of it all, and I couldn’t believe how right it felt. I dipped the brush back in, and put it up to the wall again, this time more confidently, painting quicker and stronger. For hours after that, I painted all four walls lovingly, passionately. I painted the story of my life, my thoughts, my emotions. I painted everything that meant something special to me. It took me the whole day, and at the end I saw a room given art. I was so exhausted, I lay down on the floor, covered in paint, but with a huge, satisfied smile on my face. It felt right.
On the second day, I walked in pushing a huge, black grand piano. I set it up in the corner of the room. The smooth wood felt good under my palms and after I was done familiarizing myself with every inch of what itself was a work of art, I sat on the soft leather stool and lifted up my fingers to the black and white keys. Then, I played everything that was in my heart and soul. I played my sorrows, my joys, my hopes and dreams. I played with a passion so strong I didn’t feel like I was me anymore, but something floating in harmony with the music. I played for the whole day, and at the end I knew I had given the room music. Tired but fulfilled, I lay my head on the cool wood. It felt right.
On the third day, I walked in carrying a shelf, a pillow, a cage and a box. I set up the shelf opposite the piano and opened the box. On my knees, I took out each object- always a cat from some exotic place, cleaned it lovingly, and put it proudly on the shelf. One after the other, pausing to relive every memory attached to each special cat, I patiently wiped and carefully added to the collection. When I was done, I placed the pillow next to the shelf and opened up the cage. I watched as a careful paw came out and tentatively touched the floor. I watched as a being of beauty, patience, and perfection stepped out and slowly took in what it was seeing. Carefully, the cat walked around the room and explored it with curiosity. Sometimes it asked me questions with long, beautiful meeeeeeows and I laughed at its acceptance of change. At the end, it walked over to me, its eyes filled with trust and love, and curled up to me. I smiled, knowing I had given the room a loyal friend. It felt right.
On the fourth day, I walked in carrying candles. Tall ones, short ones, round ones, thick ones, of every kind. I went around the room and placed them at the edges, one by one, lighting them all. I turned off the lights and sat in the middle, closed my eyes, finding peace and calm within myself. I let the warmth be my comfort, the aroma my tranquility and the darkness my friend. I sat there, allowing the calm settle down into the room. When I was done, I opened my eyes slowly and patiently- I had given the room peace. It felt right.
On the fifth day, I walked in pulling a bed and a couch. I placed them on opposite ends of the room and smiled at how complete the room had become. I spent the day with the knowledge that this was my room, made with my hands, my heart, my sweat. I thought about everything I had given this room, marveling at its sense of unity and harmony. I left that day knowing I had given the room comfort. It felt right.
On the sixth day, I walked in leading a friend. I showed him everything I had done and let him experience the art, music, friendship, peace and comfort in this room. With him inside, it felt truly complete. His presence made it special, understanding and open. I held his hand in mine and let his friendship, warmth and peace into the room. I closed my eyes and smiled, knowing that I was done, and the best was yet to come. I had given the room love; it felt right.
On the seventh day, I rested.
