A few months ago I opted to give away my writing desk and while there were many factors involved in that decision, none of them had anything to do with whether I was going to continue writing. Unfortunately, most of the considerations had to do with the small space in which our family of four lives. When our previous landlord from whom we were renting a spacious single-family house gave us a 30-day notice to pack up and move in August, 2016, my husband had also just been downsized from his job. To say we were in a bit of a bind is not an exaggeration. In fact, we had to move in with my mother-in-law as we figured out our housing.
Eventually, in October, we finally found this place—a townhome in a fairly quiet neighborhood. While the neighborhood was pretty nice, the space was quite a lot smaller than where we’d been living. As a matter of fact it’s one of those homes in which the dining area and the living room share the same small square footage. The kitchen is small, two of the three bedrooms are incredibly small. Pretty much, the place is like living in a sardine can; anything less than 1200 square feet is, in my opinion, a sardine can (wink).
Even so, we have made it work. Mostly.
But each year, as Christmas approaches, some piece of furniture has taken the place where the Christmas tree is slated to go. And so, each Christmas season, I spend quite a bit of time in October and the beginning of November making room for Christmas. As I did that this year, I surveyed the living area space and saw that my writing desk was more of a collector of clutter than a creative space and this wasn’t the first time I made this determination. The choice was obvious—it was time for the desk to go. I didn’t truly love the desk, and given that it wasn’t fulfilling its designated purpose, it was easy to part with it.
Since then, I tend to work at our dining room table much of the time and I’ve been able to make that work for me.
But not today. I don’t know what triggered an old knee injury, but yesterday and today it is sore and swollen. Still, I needed to make waffles this morning, and that exacerbated the achiness. Then, we needed to go to the laundromat (because of a problem with the washing machine in our rental) and then on to the grocery store. A bit too much standing and walking.
Upon returning home, my 16 year old immediately came downstairs to see how I was doing. She also took the laundry that needed to be hung up upstairs to take care of that so I didn’t have to head up the stairs on my still-achy knee. But, before she headed off to do that, she paused and looked at me, and asked, “You can relax now, right? You don’t have anything else to do?”
I told her I needed to do my writing, and she nodded. “Of course you can write on the couch,” she said, rather than at the dining room table, so I can rest my knee. After all, she told me, she was writing in her bed, so certainly me and my laptop obviously can nestle into a space on the couch. And so that is where I have planted myself for the afternoon—on the couch, where I can write and read and watch a movie if I’d like or listen to my audiobook.
My younger teen asked me to help her with her hair so she could head outside to do some of her storytelling and brainstorming. As she sat on the floor next to the couch, she asked me if I was doing okay. It can be weird when your parent is not quite 100% after all. When I assured her all was well, she exhaled a relieved breath and headed outside. As I’ve tapped away at my keys, listening to music and writing and staring out the window, I have felt quite cared for and loved.
We invest a lot of time in our children and then our teenagers, pouring into their physical and mental health. There is something poignant to be on the receiving end of your teenagers’ concern for your wellbeing. I see their compassion and empathy in action every day, even directed at me quite often. But today I am bearing witness to the beauty in the way my teenagers look out for me on a regular basis because this is not the first time one of them has insisted I need to take time to take care of me. As I watch the way these two empathetic young women continue to exude care and compassion, I cannot help but know this world will be a better place because they are a part of it.