Well, today I put the finishing touches on my office in our “forever” house. Want to see?
Yes, it’s purple. This is largely because, as my college lit professor was quick to point out (the first time he saw me after a ten-year gap, I might add), I love symbolism. When I was talking to a friend about color meanings and she said, “Purple is the color of romance. Oh, and royalty,” I knew my writing office had to be purple. Friends, as a writer, I am all about romance… and, uhm, “royalties.” Don’t ya just love it? It makes me laugh every time I walk in here.
Mine is not the first “work station” to sit in this very spot though. No, for more years than I’ve even been alive, my grandmother’s sewing table sat in this very spot, facing this very wall with this very window to the left. If you look closely at the hardwood floor, you can see the spot where her chair sat, worn even though this room had an area rug at all times.
Now, here I am, in my chair at my desk, creating in a totally different way, in a way she encouraged me to create. When she died, I had no idea this move would happen, that someday we’d call this house home. It was something I couldn’t emotionally fathom at the time. In fact, it wasn’t until last Thanksgiving, when my uncle asked if we were interested, that something in me clicked and made me realize… this is home. Not just my childhood home, but my family’s “forever” home.
I haven’t had the time yet to truly sit here in my chair, to stare at the wall and let this all sink in. But that time will come. And when it does, I have every idea I’ll feel something of my Bopum here, cheering me on.