Out With the Old, In With the New

So apparently, I ruined the old dresser.

Their words, not mine.

Personally, I thought it was fine—a little lived in, sure. The drawers were crooked and kind of falling out, but it had character. That dresser had been through two group homes with me. I had an emotional attachment to it. It still worked great for socks, underwear, pajamas, everything I needed!

But apparently, one too many drawer slams, and one too many “Danielle, put your clothes away and shut your drawers like you know how,” and suddenly…

My brother was hauling in a box bigger than me!

Of course, I’m always happy to see my brother and I’ll listen to Michael any day—mostly because I don’t want to find out what happens if I don’t. He brought in the big box and had me sit on it for a few pictures and I even flashed a nice smile because it was so

silly!

I heard mentions of “new dresser,” “industrial strength,” and “Danielle-proof,” as if I was some kind of unstoppable force. (Okay, maybe fair.)

I watched impatiently as they emptied out my old dresser, not sure what to do with myself. This was a BIG change for me. The pink paint, the squeaky drawers, the random stickers on the side. Replaced with a tall, brown, serious-looking piece of furniture.

The new one? It’s… fine, I guess.

But it’s tall, almost my height. The drawers are smooth, no resistance, no drama. Where’s the fun in that? It doesn’t make any good slamming sounds, and it has a weird smell I’m not used to. It's way too heavy for me to move or push around. I guess that was the point.

I tried yanking one drawer out like old times… just to test it. It slid out like butter. This

will take some getting used to.

It might grow on me but I still miss the old one. It had its problems, but so do I.

We understood each other. It was colorful just like me.