I’ve been complaining (somewhat bitterly at times) that I have not have a space of my own in this ‘new again’ home in Ottawa. Not that I had my own space in Melbourne – far from it in fact, but here I feel I am allowed to crave somewhere for my own peace of mind. To have an area that is mine, a place that my creativity can rest in.
But there is precious little space in a two bedroom apartment for private space. Having a space to call ones own is a luxury that until now, I have not been allowed. Bronwen takes over the master bedroom because the only working TV is there and heaven help us if we miss an episode of Mr Maker; she will be an artist of some sort one day, of that I’m sure. Matthew is in the second bedroom with his computer, and I have, until now, been relegated to sitting at the kitchen table, spreading out my work and scraping back up everything I deem important in the goal of creativity for every family meal. It has been an issue of frustration and of loneliness for me. I think, I if I am honest with myself, I’ve been yearning for space of my own for years.
The other day Matthew lugged up from the basement and set up a small desk for me in the family room. The desk is made of redwood polished to a high gleam. The top opens up to reveal a green leather writing base that is embossed with beautiful gold filigree work. There are small compartments that can hide any number of notes or books. A single pen drawer has a solid brass button handle to hide away pens and tubes of glue. I find my hand gliding over the top of the desk, feeling the silky wood and the earthy grain of the leather. On the inside of the desk, there are criss-crosses of elastic that have been nailed in with brass tacks, to slide in postcards, or words of wisdom and encouragement. The hardware of the desk is brass, giving it an old world look that stands somewhat formally, but not unpleasantly against the dark stained wooden IKEA bookshelves that groan under the weight of my embroidery book collection.
The view from the other side of the kitchen table was much more pleasant, with the distant hills covered in trees. The only view afforded me here at my new desk is of the freeway in the distance, the other apartment building and the rooftops of homes. I confess that its not so pretty, the smooth geometrical brown roof tiles and the creamy brown bricks with flashes of white balcony edges and a swirling ribbon of black that carries scurrying multi-coloured beetles along the busy journey of their days. But even this view offers its own inspiration in that there is nothing to distract me as I sit and work on my story writing, or type up blog entries. I have more than enough daylight to work comfortably, but nothing to draw my eyes away from the work at hand.
OK. It’s not a room that I can close the door on and be alone. It’s not a place I can pile well read and loved or soon to be loved books around me, with baskets of embroidery materials, skeins of thread and several UFO’s (Un Finished Objects) projects scattered safely around. Buts it’s a desk, with a top that I can close. It’s a place I can put my notebooks on and write without staring at the crumbs left over from Bronwen’s morning breakfast toast. It’s a place that I can learn to love as my small space of serenity, or poetry or manic energy. It’s my small space in this small space of life.
And I think, when I become better acquainted with this space that hold my small desk, I may well just fall completely and utterly in love with it.
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It looks and sounds like a beautiful writing desk, inspirational in the style of it. My desk, as you’ve seen, is large but neither in a private place nor having character. We have to do make do with what we have. Despite its size, my desk can be a pain sometimes as it gets messy far too easily and requires an hour to clean it off and organise it. On a good day.
You know, I have a room that is set up with my scrapbook stuff and is also set up as a guest room. However, I found that I didn’t like shutting myself off anymore. I guess I spend so much time away from my family that even though we are doing seperate things, just being in the same room is comforting to me.
Donna @ WayMoreHomemade’s last blog post..Mama Braggin’ Monday
Sometimes a space of your own is the most critical thing a person could have. It helps keep you balanced.
Ahh8e’s last blog post..Experimental Cooking – Dinner Success!
Sometimes a space of your own is the most critical thing a person could have. It helps keep you balanced.
So is having a small child go to bed when he is supposed to and stay asleep instead of stepping on the laptop when you least expect it.
Annie’s last blog post..Experimental Cooking – Dinner Success!
I seem to remember having a loan of some space in Melbourne to do Maths study. Moving to the topic of desks, I just moved the small desk into the bedroom here so I can work at home with the kids on holidays. Kind of wierd having half a wall and half a doorway to put the desk.
Still, it is quiet in here and I have no idea what the kids are up to. That is Casidhe’s job.
Isn’t it interesting how you get so much agreement here in your comments. We all long for that space that you long for too. But your desk is so cute! I like the way you describe it.
My desk is my bed, unfortunately… we don’t even have a kitchen table. It drives me nuts.
One day… ONE DAY… I will have my own room with counters around all four walls. LOTS of shelves, storage space and workspace for my teaching materials, my crafts, my computer stuff… sigh. My dream!
I am so glad you got a desk of your own. It is nice to have your own space, even if just in the corner of a room.
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Let me tell you about my goat.
I bought a goat, but she isn’t a pet in the strictest sense of the word. I don’t actually keep it here in the apartment – I’m thinking she would be kinda messy to clean up after, and I already have a dachshund to clean up after.
Last year I [...]