Dedicated to all related to Albert and Thea Anderson

My Room-Mate
Clayton Anderson Bell

My room-mate was 101 years old, she was my great-grandmother, the world was at war, and I was alone. I was only eight when we became room-mates and at that time my roommate was 94 years of age.
My roommate was a tall, slender, very regal looking person, strong of limb and quick of mind. We shared a rather large room on the third floor of a very old farm house. Roomy’ s bed was against the south wall and my bed was against the north wall and in between us we shared a table, two chairs, a coal oil lamp and a four drawer chest. Roomy had three drawers and I had one. Being younger my drawer was the bottom one as I was more able to bend down...and so we started our life together.
In the summer, when the room became very warm, I would open the window and often wave a small fan over Roomy. In the winter, when the room became very cold, Roomy would come over and cover me with an extra blanket. I loved Roomy dearly and Roomy seemed to love me in return. It did not seem to matter to either of us that Roomy only spoke Norwegian and I only spoke English. I do not ever recall a time when language presented a problem.
When I first teamed up with Roomy I was very young, very alone and very afraid of the dark. It was Roomy who would sing to me when the dreaded darkness came.
As the years passed, we both became a bit older, Roomy a bit slower and I a bit faster.
One night, for whatever reason, a doctor came into our room. Grandpa and Grandma came in as well and both were crying softly. It was becoming late and evening shadows gathered. The lamp on the table was lit and I could see the doctor draw the blanket up and cover Roomy’s face. He then came over to me and said that Roomy had died. All left the room.
Some how it seemed only right that I sang to her as the dreaded darkness came.