[ WP ] Today , you went into the room your parents told you to never go in .

My mother had insisted I never enter the drawing room and the way my father looked at me over the top of his glasses, well he did n't need to say anything at all. I had always followed their rules, they had never given me reason not to and I had my old brother as an example of what happens if I would n't. John had n't been home in years. 
 
 But they were out that afternoon and the house was mine. It was warm lazy Sunday, the windows open to let in a soft breeze. The neighborhood was quiet as my friends were at sailing or tennis camps. Maybe it was the book I had just finished, as it was a mystery novel of young girl who finds a secret cave in the woods and solve an accident murder. Maybe it gave me a few ideas. Maybe I missed my brother and the antics he used to create. Maybe I was bored. Whatever it was, I found myself facing the closed oak door. I loved the way it looked and the way the heavy door knob fit into my hand - cold despite the warm day. I turned the knob and it opened softly. 
 
 The brightness of the room was almost blinding. A soft lace curtain fluttered in breeze of the open bay window. An ornate wooden desk faced outside with a matching chair. Pens and stationary filled the desk but not in a cluttered way; it was very organized as if it was on display. A dress pattern hung on a sewing mannequin and it was very lovely, although dated. Unusual considering my mother did n't sew. I giggled, thinking about the possibility it could belong to my father. Considering it was just the three of us living here, I did n't understand who used this room or why. Framed calligraphy hung on the walls - so perfectly done I assumed it was a print. I would later learn it was her handwriting and had taken her months to complete each one. 
 
 I was admiring the plush white carpeting, so different from the rest of the house, when I saw the bureau. Despite having broken so many rules already, I hesitated to open it. But, having admired everything else in the room, I figured a punishment could n't get much worse for doing so. I turned the delegate knob and it clicked open. A smell I could not place, but knew and loved, hit me. Old coats and dresses hung inside, hat boxes lined the top shelve and small tiny drawers held jewelry and white elbow length gloves so stiff I could n't get them on. The smell would come and go, I would catch it as I opened each drawer or brushed against the hanging coats. I buried my face into the heaviest coat there was, trying to breath more and more of it in. And that's how my mother found me, wrapped in a fur coat, eyes closed, wondering why on earth they would ever keep such a perfect room from me. 
 
 `` All of this belong to your grandmother. We redid the house when she died, everything but this room. This is exactly how she left it'' my mother explained, sitting down on the floor next to me. `` You loved her so much as a baby - she'd babysit you while your father was overseas and I was at work. You'd cry every night I came to pick you up, and run into her arms every morning I dropped you off. At the time, I felt jealous. When your father returned and I stopped working, I told her I would n't be needing her help raising my children. I threw away her cards for you, I would n't let her visit you kids for months.'' I saw my mothers' eyes fill up with tears of regret as she told me this. I had always known my mother was the model of grace and perfection, so I did n't believe it was as terrible as she made it out to be. I'm sure my grandmother forgave her. You know how mothers can be about these sorts of things. 
 
 `` When did grandma die?'' I asked, as I had no memory of her. `` You were 4 I think, John would have been about 15.'' There was a silence. `` She committed suicide. I have always believed it was because she could n't see you two kids anymore. In her will, she left this house to me until you, my dear, were old enough to inherit it. I've been preserving this room for you so you can always have her'' my mother said. And then my mother cried all the tears she had been holding back.
