My old room

I've been home for a brief break in between the end of summer term and the end of my contract, and I've been staying in my room. The shelves full of books and the pictures on the wall bring back old memories, and the whole room seems like a shrine to my childhood self. Part of me really misses having my own room and a 2nd-story window overlooking a hill full of trees. I look at my old copy of the Aeneid in Latin and wonder how I ever pretended to translate it. My beanie babies on the shelves remind me of how I used to act out plays with them all as characters. They represented different people in my life... I'm a little concerned because the one that represented me is missing. It's like I'm not a part of their group anymore. I'm a stranger in my own room.