One of the first things I realized when I began moving out of my duplex and into my house was how amazingly much furniture and stuff and junk that I had. In those first days, especially, it seemed very overwhelming to me, with furniture stacked to the ceiling in some rooms. The feeling was very claustrophobic, almost frightening. Now that I'm here, I have a huge craving for empty spaces. I no longer want rooms full of furniture, I want everything in its place, and as few of those things as possible.
Nevertheless, there were a few things I had a hard time giving up. I don't try to actively cling to the memories that I have when I see them, but I'm certain my inner reluctance in dealing with them have impeded me, and for reasons that don't even make sense, I became reluctant to move forward.
What used to stand in this corner was a dilapidated, beat-up roll-top desk and a rather unique slanted desk that was custom-made for me. Both of these things have connections with Storm. Both of them are useless in my new home. Both of them have occupied their spots in this corner for about a year now.
The larger desk Storm made for me. It had a tremendous footprint, but barely any usable space. My husband had made it out of the tops of a double tiered coffee table. He had made it specifically for me. It was too tall, and much too big, and had entirely too much unusable space. Functionally, I really didn't appreciate it at all. Aesthetically, it appealed to me in almost every way. It's slanted profile made an interesting conversation piece, and the clean simplicity of it gave me a glimpse into Storm's artistic side. He was a designer and maker by nature, and I love the opportunities I had to see his mind at work.
Next to it was the roll-top. That ugly thing sat inside my front door almost since I moved back to Salem. It's made out of that weird, heavy particleboard, and the roll-top is not wood at all. It was missing a front handle for the drawer, but basically it stood on its own legs and everything works. The dog food used to sit underneath of it, so it is dirty and covered in hair. Every day I would come into my house and there would sit the accumulated pile of our life crap. Storm usually would put his wallet there, and the dog leashes usually ended up there, the cats liked to walk on it, and I usually found the daily mail there. It's cubbies were excellent for storing things that you might need and accumulating dust, but most often it was a place for things to be forgotten. I hated the ugly thing, but its importance in my life is lasting, and every time I look at it I think of how much Storm loved that poor, ugly thing.
Yesterday, I pulled out all of Storm's 3 inch long drywall screws and took apart the desk. Today I carried out the boards, and watched someone else carry out the roll-top desk. They sounded like they were really going to love it, and I'm glad. It deserves a little love.
Eventually, the heavy tabletops will be refinished and turned into plant shelves, and the rest of the wood has gone out to the pile to be re-purposed. I should've done this weeks or maybe months ago, but I somehow couldn't bring myself to do it. I had nowhere to put the things that were on them, and the cold, wet weather made a handy excuse, but somehow I just couldn't let them go.
Now they are gone. I couldn't call them back if I wanted to. Instead I am left with an empty corner. The corner will be filled soon enough. The dogs will be using it as a thoroughfare, and I'm sure the boxes and totes and hoarding of life will fill it in short order.
Right now that empty space feels like a great big possibility. Like it could be almost anything in that corner. About a year ago, the world I called my life became utterly shattered, and I have spent the time sweeping up the fragments; physically and metaphorically. Each day, I try to take my life closer to order from chaos; each and every slice of space and order feels like peace of mind. Today, by making myself put away these specific things and to experience that empty corner, I willfully let go of a tiny piece of my sorrow, and by doing so I willfully fought back against the darkness, and let a shining ray of peace in to replace it.
Psalm 30:11-12
11 You have turned my mourning into dancing for me; You have torn off my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, 12 So that esteem might praise You and not be silent. O יהוה my Elohim, I thank You forever.
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