Submission 229

Amber's Room,

Your diary, half written but filled with completed train journeys spent travelling to friends and artists; where adding a tattoo you had designed, totally imaginative and one of a kind, was as important to you as the holy grail. The hedgehog you revived, reared and rescued; mum has taken on rearing duties now, she takes them very seriously. Your jewellery making desk with pots of silver, partly made rings and dusty gems, you have a note on your shelf ‘look for ring everywhere!!, which was located years ago but the reminder still remains, in case it happens again… Your railing of leather jackets, enough to clothe the cast of The Lost Boys with pairs of Doc Martens to match. Your dried plants and herbs hanging on the walls and stuffed in jars for making tonics for friends and family, soothing their sleep and calming their days.
Self-taught guitars sit patiently and your record collection, catching dust and waiting to be played, a library of music your dulcet voice would hum and whistle above whilst taking time to perfect your contour, lipstick and brows. Birthday cards, Christmas cards, letters and notes squeezed between books and trinkets. They all have their place, their meaning and you found comfort in knowing they were given to you out of love. Your bed has been made, mums placed a cross on your pillow, something I'm not entirely sure you'd agree with but it's there. Bottles of empty fizzy wine, a drink found after many a night watching Disney films on your laptop, smoking roll ups and crying over ‘silly boys’. Your clothes, elegant and black in colour, dappled in Ponyo’s fur, the remnants of you taking her to bed to cuddle and cry and rest. Your laugh, now distant but will forever reverberate, for that laughter could thaw the coldest of winters.

I now stand in your room trying to memorise its contents, leaving it untouched for you're not there to move it back. It’s exactly how you left it.