The First Thing
It was the first thing Big Daddy and I bought for home together. We took our money from the wedding and went to the store in the mall that smelled like sweet wood. We picked it out carefully, deciding on it’s height and width and shelf configuration.
When we picked it up, we wrapped it in blankets and drove it home carefully. We carried it into our apartment (long gone, but not forgotten) and loaded it with books and pictures and candles. It was the first new piece of furniture in an apartment full of piecemeal and it was ours. Our books and keepsakes mingling on its shelves, just like our lives were mingling together.
It’s lived every place we’ve lived. It’s been in nearly every single room in our current home. It’s held yearbooks and trashy paperbacks, textbooks and literature. It’s held cartoon tapes and board books chewed by our little ones. It’s held toys and diapers and bottles and picture frames.
It has witnessed us at every stage we’ve spent together. From two to three to four and now five. Lamps have glowed from its top as babies were rocked and nursed or sick children were tended to. Holiday decorations have been shoved onto its shelves and cluttered its top. The Princess used it as a multi-story doll house (despite having a doll house of her own). It’s held our lives and witnessed our times.
And now it’s empty. The books and toys and keepsakes purged from its shelves. To be made ready for our move four hundred miles from here. It contained the most frivolous things I could come up with, so I pulled a half a dozen books off for me and a dozen for the kiddos and tucked the books into a box and the bookcase? It will carried carefully down the stairs and into the garage where it will wait to be in the background of our pictures in the next chapter of our story.