It seems to be part of the American Dream for parents to provide their children with shelter, food, an education and....their very own bedrooms. Wherever families live, in the city, suburbs or rural places this seems to hold true. But why? It does seem to be a very American idea, grounded in our notions of independence and privacy, even within the confines of a family home. And it seems like a luxury, proof of the parents made good, no longer a spare room or a guest room until each child is set in her own compartment like eggs in a carton, not to mention the liberties inherent in the room's furnishings and decoration.
But I wonder. In our first house when I was growing up we each had our own room. Mine was a small square room with pink walls and a little desk under which I used to sit and read with my little nightlight. I remember it as being wholly mine; I liked the closet, which was long and large and in which my mother stored things, like books I wasn't ready for yet. Alison's room was little more than a closet off the kitchen, if I remember correctly. I can vaguely recall a crib in there, but after that? Nothing. I don't even remember the room with a bed.
When I was seven and we moved to a bigger house, the one my parents still live in, I remember the excitement of choosing our bedrooms, although in hindsight it seems that my mother had decided already which would be whose and that we were subtly nudged in the proper directions. These were both small, square rooms; the main difference between them was that mine again had a long narrow closet, in which I had my beloved bookshelf, and Alison's had what we called a "walk-in closet," in which we occasionally slept in our sleeping bags.
Those nights I remember well, the nights when I was granted entry into Alison's closet lair. And that's what I'm thinking about: how parents strive so hard to give each kid a separate bedroom, their own space, and then--if the parents have done their job well, or the stars have aligned for the family--gravity pulls the kids together one way or another and they end up lying inches away from each other on a pink carpeted closet floor, falling asleep in a pack like baby wolves, listening to each other breathe.
I don't know. Sometimes when Ben is away and I tiptoe into Lily's room to check on her at night I lie down beside her, turn so our backs are lined up in the middle of the bed, and sleep in there. This is not a big apartment. Space is at a premium. But it's not always the luxury we think it is to close a door and be alone.
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2 comments:
Interesting post. I grew up in a studio in an apartment building in Brooklyn and never had a room of my own until I was 24. Actually, none of my friends had rooms of their own either. Some families had 2 BRs, and the kids all shared a room. No one thought it was weird because everyone was in the same boat. I guess we lacked in privacy, but even now (my kids share a bedroom) I'm not sure what that gives you. I suppose that's part of your point?
pJust went back and read this one.. My kids shared a room for about 2 years, then we split them up because they were keeping each other up all night giggling (yes, it was cute, but the overtired cries were not so cute the next day). Just two nights ago, our youngest announced that she did not want to sleep in her room alone because she was, well, alone. So, they're back together again. But now they are old enough to understand that if they keep each other awake, they'll be separated. So far, no one has made so much as a peep after "lights out"...we'll see how things go. I love that they share a room. I think it enriches their relationship. And I also think separate BRs are such an American phenomenon.
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