Guest Rooms ©

A Story by Malati Marlene Shinazy

I have two good friends, one woman, one man, who each live 2-3 hours drive from me.  “Mi casa es su casa” is not just a casual term for either of these friends.  It is quite literal.  Not only are their homes always open to me, they’ve given me keys, so I can pop in whenever I like.

Like many families, their homes have designated guest rooms.  Unlike many, however, I am the nearly the only guest — I’m at one home or the other at least monthly.  Over time, the guest rooms have been affectionately re-labeled, “Malati’s Room.”  One has a bed I gifted my friend years back; the other has a bed I recommended during a refurnishing spree.  I have purchased favorite high-loft pillows to leave in each room, and have moved the table lamps around to accommodate my late-night reading patterns (light over my right shoulder, please).

One of these guest rooms is a gallery of my daughter’s college artwork, and includes a triptych of photos of my kids at three stages of their childhood. Come to think of it, it has more of my children’s presence than my own room at home.

I most always call and ask the same question, “Is there room at the Inn this weekend?”  And, quite naturally, the answer is always some variation of, “Of course; your room is always ready for you, Madame.”  Still the gracious guest, I alert them my approximate arrival time.  But, as it’s often late at night, I sneak quietly in like an errant teen, careful not to awaken them.

In the morning however, out of the guest rooms I come, the ceremonial coffee awaiting me, with milk, if I remember to bring it.  At some time during the stay, we catch up on gossip at one house and solve all the problems of the world at the other.  I always have other tasks on my visit agenda, but protect time for the treasured chatting sessions.

These guest rooms have been mine for over a decade now, and I seldom think how truly fortunate I am to have such caring friends.  Raised to be well mannered, I often bring a little something to thank them, but staying in these guest rooms has more meaning to me than I express.

But now, as I sit in the living room chair I always occupy during a visit, while my friend prepares our evening meal, I realize…

This Is Wonderful!  I am one of the most fortunate women in the world.  I am home here too.

I have two precious friends whose guest rooms have been deeded over to me. Guest rooms aren’t really guest room in these homes, they are Friends’ Rooms. 

photo by elisaself

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3 Responses to Guest Rooms ©

  1. I have one of those when I go south. It is truly a home away from home.

  2. Malati Marlene Shinazy

    Roberto- I’m sure you are welcome in everyone’s home! — mms

  3. I too get the privilage of spending time in my friends guest rooms every 5 weeks. I work out of the area at those times and I have 4 GREAT friends that willingly open their homes to me. I’m grateful and I so enjoy the time spent with them.