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This is an odd confession, but I have to admit that the idea of a guest bedroom still kind of eludes me. Maybe it's because I grew up in a small house with two siblings and we never had a room designated for guests. When someone came over to stay, we just converted one of our bedrooms to the guest quarters. Since Wayne and I have moved from Texas, we have had a second bedroom reserved for guests and often extra things that we don't have a place for otherwise. Currently our guest bedroom also holds our vacuum, my wedding dress, sweaters, purses, military gear, Wayne
's uniforms, and our fur babies. I do get a little sad having this bedroom, complete with a bed and chest of drawers newly refinished, because it's unoccupied. It's strange for me to have this part of my home that I rarely use and go days without even entering it. I would like to have another name for this room other than "guest." Maybe "The Billings' room," or "Kandy and Brooke's room," or possibly one day "Baby's room." Not having a true designation for this room makes it feel so hollow and vacant. I feel like the rest of my house is pretty much in order, well lived, active, but this whole section is longing to be used. Our house is small and one story, this extra square footage could be great some where else, but it is where it is and I like having this room; I feel like it is destined for something other than to be a generic "guest bedroom," only used on occasion. The times when we have had friends and family over, our house has a much homier feel and I forget about the desolation of that room. Every inch is filled with luggage, pets, toys, LIFE. During those times our house has no void, no space that isn't used. Along with these visits, however, is the ending and once again I'm left with this space, only this time, it feels even more lonely. I often walk by this room (after all, I have to if I wanna get to my bedroom or a bathroom) and I think about the visitors we've had stay there before and those possibly to come. The quiet of that room is sometimes more than I can bare and it's those times I wish there was someone to fill this space more than ever! I still clean this room on a regular basis: vacuum, dust, wash the sheets. It's always there, prepared and waiting. I guess that's the purpose of a guestroom, a special place in your home, reserved for what's, or should I say who's, to come.
Vacations, traveling, and visiting friends and family have been a big part of my life the past two months. Vacations are great whether they have been planned for a year or if they are a spontaneous weekend getaway. Lately, my life has been all about coming and going; so eventful and exciting! Now that I finally have the time to sit and organize the pictures from these recent events, I'm finding so many moments I'm grateful to have captured. As we all know though, one of the biggest drawbacks to vacations is the packing and unpacking. No matter how conscious and neat I try to be when I pack, my suitcases are always a struggle to zip due to being over packed when I leave. Like any time in my life involving a scale, my fingers are always crossed when it comes to weighing, hoping I won't be over my limit. When I'm finally on my way, I always have the same fear, "Did I forget anything? Did I leave anything behind?" no matter how many times I retrace my steps those thoughts still linger. On the drive back after a wonderful weekend trip, I glanced back in the backseat at our luggage and thought about all the laundry and clean up I'd need to do when I got home, but something else occurred to me aside from the accumulation of belongings in the backseat, I realized that there is so much more that I am bringing back: I've got so many fantastic memories that I didn't have before. With these, comes all of the emotion I invested in each moment: the reunions, the surprises, the concerts, the dinners, the early morning rising, and all of the new places and people. With all of this, I still have that persistent fear, "Did I forget anything?" Unlike my packing concerns, this time the question is much more retrospective. I want to know that I made the most out of every second. Did I see everyone? Did I say thank you? Did I show enough appreciation? Did I say I love you? Did I make sure that each person knows how much they mean to me? Did I jump at every opportunity?... whether it be to dance around the living room in a tutu with my niece or bang on a cowbell off beat in front of 200 people while my best friend sings. Knowing that my time is limited, I am a sponge and I make sure I leave without regret. All of my experiences condensed to heartfelt memories preserved in my mind. Safekeeping and fuel to get me through a long stretch without my loved ones near. I cherish each piece I take with me from every visit and hope that I don't forget anything.
This will probably sound strange, but I love airports. I love flying, I love boarding, and I even love those moving walkway things. I don't love the food, but then again I'm not completely crazy. I love to see the planes come and go and I LOVE to people watch. People from all over the world coming and going, some rushing, some taking their time, some shopping, some eating, some grooming, some doing business and some getting settled for a long vacation. There are so many types of people feeling so many different things. This is what I love most. You can see people full of frustration and haste rushing to get from one gate to the next while checking their email, balancing their checkbook, and adjusting their stockings all at once. Others may be laughing and hugging, so happy to be reuniting with loved ones, even for just a few days. They are so excited about whats to come in this visit whether it be a holiday or a bachelor party. Other people you see may be sad after just parting, having to say goodbye again to a friend, to a child, to a parent, a piece of themselves that they don't want to leave behind. Sometimes I wonder if it's the energy of so many things happening simultaneously that draws me to the airport. Reluctant endings, hopeful beginnings, so much all at once. When I travel by car, I miss this anticipation. When you drive, you and all your emotion are contained in your vehicle. Like cells within the human body, everyone zooms by minding their own business, going here or there. You 
can't see or feel what the other drivers are experiencing (except on those rare occasions when certain drivers reveal their feelings through finger gestures, but we won't go into all that now :) ). The airport is where it all comes together, the heart of traveling. People still coming and going, but you see them as a person not just another hunk of metal speeding by. I guess it is a little odd that I am so fascinated by such a filthy, hectic, and stressful place. Perhaps the real attraction is because on a sub-conscious level, I'm just really excited to indulge in my superstitious and delightful combination of ginger ale and Twizzlers on the plane. What ever the reason, I can't wait for my next flight and be a part of the airport vivacity (as long as I don't forget my quart-sized bag!).
's uniforms, and our fur babies. I do get a little sad having this bedroom, complete with a bed and chest of drawers newly refinished, because it's unoccupied. It's strange for me to have this part of my home that I rarely use and go days without even entering it. I would like to have another name for this room other than "guest." Maybe "The Billings' room," or "Kandy and Brooke's room," or possibly one day "Baby's room." Not having a true designation for this room makes it feel so hollow and vacant. I feel like the rest of my house is pretty much in order, well lived, active, but this whole section is longing to be used. Our house is small and one story, this extra square footage could be great some where else, but it is where it is and I like having this room; I feel like it is destined for something other than to be a generic "guest bedroom," only used on occasion. The times when we have had friends and family over, our house has a much homier feel and I forget about the desolation of that room. Every inch is filled with luggage, pets, toys, LIFE. During those times our house has no void, no space that isn't used. Along with these visits, however, is the ending and once again I'm left with this space, only this time, it feels even more lonely. I often walk by this room (after all, I have to if I wanna get to my bedroom or a bathroom) and I think about the visitors we've had stay there before and those possibly to come. The quiet of that room is sometimes more than I can bare and it's those times I wish there was someone to fill this space more than ever! I still clean this room on a regular basis: vacuum, dust, wash the sheets. It's always there, prepared and waiting. I guess that's the purpose of a guestroom, a special place in your home, reserved for what's, or should I say who's, to come.
