A quick glance

   "Vanessa, it's time to go to bed! Get your light off, now!" Mom calls from outside the bedroom that I sit in.
   "O.K., Mom," I reply. I'm not tired, and I don't want to go to bed. I stare at my pegboard. It is cluttered with cards. I glance at my bedroom door. "Why do I still have those playing cards stuck with packing tape on the door?" I ask myself. My eyes travel around the room, taking in the flowers I painted, my shawl, a calendar. I see a sketch I drew on the wall, my filthy dresser, a second calendar, my lava lamp, a baseball cap. Shifting my position, a poster and a third calendar appears. I glance at my grandmother's painting. It isn't of her, it's one she did. Finally, I view my own picture, the one of me with a butterfly on my nose.
   "Vanessa, what did I say?" Mom questions from outside my bedroom.
   "To go to bed," I sigh as I get up to turn my light out. I switch the light switch, flick my radio on, and say goodnight to my room. I whisper a prayer, something about thanks and safety, then lie down and doze off.