Dorm

I started my Freshman year just the way I needed to: alone.  I decided to stay in the dorms because I wasn't ready to cook for myself. (I have the rest of my life to do that).

 Lots of my friends felt sorry for me.

"Dorm rooms look like jail cells," they would tell me.

Not mine.  It didn't take any time at all for my dorm to become home.

Sticker appliques lined the wall, and a folded up pink sheet added some nice color to a bland, white windowsill.  Colorful bedspreads, magnets on the mini fridge, pictures on the cork board  clothes strewn about the floor.  All of these things defined my temporary home.

But what really made my new home complete was the people.  My roommate Lacy was perfect for me.  She was laid back and easy going, and is one of the few people who knows how to calm me down.  She knows how to make me laugh, and always laughs at my jokes.  She opened my eyes to the truth that every person has their own talents and struggles, and we are who we are for a reason.

We were very, very different.  We originally had almost nothing in common.  Music, movies, activities, fashion, nothing.  But it didn't matter.  As time went on, we made compromises, and introduced things to each other.  I now love Carrie Underwood, and she loves Harry Potter.  And we both love each other.

Christmas always reminds me of Lacy, now.  She would start listening to Christmas music in October, and would keep listening until September.  We decorated our room with everything: a little tree, stockings, mistletoe, lights, snowflakes, you name it. Lacy had an apple cinnamon air freshener that made our room smell like Christmas all the time.  I loved it. When I would go to class and open my backpack, a burst of apple cinnamon would greet me.  And when I went home--Davis County home--it smelled different.  I smelled different.  I smelled of my home.