My New Room

Sarah liked drawing. She wasn’t amazing at it, but she liked it anyway. She drew when she was bored and sometimes when she felt quiet inside. When her family moved to a new house, Sarah carried a box into her room and put it down. The room was bigger than before, but it felt empty. The walls were white, and the floor felt cold under her feet. She didn’t cry. She just felt off. She went to her mom and said, “Mom, this house is nice, but it doesn’t feel like home.” Her mom looked at her and said, “It will.” Sarah didn’t say anything back. Later, she went to her room again. She put a small rug on the floor. It was one she made with her grandmother a long time ago. It didn’t match the room, but she liked it. She taped a picture of her family to the wall. They were eating ice cream. Her brother looked silly in it. She put her books on the shelf. Not in order. Just there. That night, the house was louder. There was food cooking. Her dad was talking. Someone laughed. It felt different than before. Before she went to sleep, Sarah drew a heart on her door. Under it, she wrote: This is our place. The house was still new the next day. But it didn’t feel strange anymore.