Wednesday, May 7, 2014
My grandpa made that desk for my 13th birthday. It's heavier than heavy, is cracked on the side, has a little pull-out writing board, 3 drawers and little bar to rest your feet. The top drawer still has the little label that he made with the date and a "Love Grandpa" It now sits upstairs, in it's original home, with Kira as it's new owner. It still houses random pens, papers, notes, junk. It still does it's job. Maybe I need to actually sit down at that desk itself, pull it's creative powers from within.
And that window... that was my first apartment that was all mine. No roommates, no boyfriend, no mom, just me. And I loved it. It was a place that I could just be. I sat in that chair and stared out that window with complex thoughts or nothing at all at time. It really was a haven for me.
I am itching to recall that feeling. I'm wanting to create something. I'm needing some movement of some form in my life. Maybe I'll start by sitting at that desk and looking out the window...