The room that was to be Clara’s nursery, a small little bedroom, right at the end of the hallway in our house, was transformed in to a home library after we lost her. Pretty quickly after we lost her, in fact. Her empty room, situated as it was, made walking down the hallway a somber affair. Barren and grey, it just loomed, if a room can do such a thing.
Over the course of a few days we transformed it, and the effect was immediate. A doorway which previously haunted me, became one of my favorite vignettes in our home. Beyond being pleasing to the eye, it offered a practical storage solution for the piles of books that were slowly taking over at our house. This is about to be the hipsteriest thing I have ever said, but I had actual vintage suitcases full of books in my craft room. I know. Despite the way it sounds, this was not some kind of quaint decorating statement, but rather a practical and strategic use of what once served as decoration at mine and my husband’s wedding, well actually vow renewal, but that is a story for another day. Anyways, we used the vintage suitcases as a card box. Thanks Pinterest, and yes, that is an actual photo from our day. The point is, I am not a charming decorating maven so much as I am just someone who sees vessels and fills them with books.
Anyways, I was able to unpack all my “charming” vintage suitcases, unpile my teetering towers of tales (sorry, got a little swept up in the alliteration, there), and give all of our books proper homes among the shelves in the new library. We even brought in the kids’ books (to be honest, their collections rival my own when one considers the age:quantity of books ratio), so everyone’s books are all in one place. The room makes me so happy. As icing on the cake, we decided to put my husband’s various guitars in the library, as well (we plan to use wall mount hardware to hang them as functional art), making it, truly, a place for every single one of us.
Now, when I walk down the hallway, it no longer looms. It is no longer barren. Its somber tune has played out. Where once sat, framed, my sorrow and grief, I now see a picture of warmth.