Grandmother's Bedroom

Dark and deary, the only light that cascaded into the medium sized bedroom was that from the one window above the queen sized bed.  It bathed the flowered sheets in quickly disappearing light, but not much else.  By the bedside, a candle had just been lit that filled the room with it's vanilla scent, and the flame flickered under the slight breeze of the open window.

At the foot of the bad was an old hope chest, and it wouldn't be much of a stretch to say it had come over on the Mayflower.  Atop it lay three faded hand-crocheted doilies in a careful row, readjusted every time something was taken out of the chest.  Over the wooden headboard was one large profile, with four smaller profiles surrounding it, each of the smaller pictures a representation of a child.

To the right of the bed was the closet, the walk-in kind that you could almost get lost in, and to the left along the wall was a stained armoire.  Though both provided ample space to keep clothes, neither were even partly filled to capacity, instead the extra space being taken up by books. 

Not only in the space of clothes though, books also spilled out from a pair of way-to-small handmade shelves, even so much as to take up room on the rocking chair also in that corner of the room.  All well worn from use, the books had pages soft to the touch, and covers that threatened to come off at the slightest jostle.  Yellowed tape attested to the fact that some already had made true to the threats.