A Dream is Realized

I quick update of good news: my wife and I moved into our new house and I’m typing this from my new library.  That’s right, library. Let me tell you about it.  Off the kitchen is a simple 12X8 room with two windows overlooking the back yard.  It has a brick fire place, wood paneling on every wall, and wood floors with walnut pegs (I’m told this is stylish). Dark stained cedar beams run across the middle and perimeter of the white ceiling.  Six, dark cherry colored book shelves line the walls and two leather chairs rest on a soft, tan rug facing the fire place. They are at a strategic distance for the warming of feet by fire and provide an alert yet comfortable posture helping to avoid the unintended reading nap.²  One simple light is directly above the two chairs and it seems to have been waiting for someone to read to it all these years.  Outside the window my bird feeder and bird bath rest underneath a 50 year old oak tree and are in perfect view from both chairs.¹ So far, dark eyed juncos and a male and female cardinals are my most regular visitors.  A ready chess board sits between the two chairs (I’ve always wanted a room with a ready chess board!).  The west facing windows let in soft, orange light at sunset when the cardinals often come back to feed.  It's a room in which a hobbit might light a pipe full of good leaf at the end of long day.

A non-reading friend sat down in my chair the other day and said, “Man, even I feel like reading a book in here.” Unfortunately, he continued, “But you know what would be cool? A nice fat, flat screen above the mantle.” 

Sorry my friend, there are no TV’s in this room.

Even in the off position, TVs silently gloat of their stranglehold on my life.  “That book is cute and all, but you know where you will come when your eyes get a little tired, and you reach the inevitable lull in your little story.”  TVs are pompous, loud and change the spirit of a room.  Crackling fire, birds chirping in spring, conversations, the occasional turning of pages, maybe the thud of an aggressive chess move.  These are the sounds of a library.

For the first time in my life there is a designated room for reading and I’ve been amazed at how well it reminds me to schedule time for something that is good for my soul.  I don’t want to squeeze some reading in before I go to bed, when I’m good for about 10 minutes before my eyes start shutting on their own.  I want to be present.  I want the mental capacity to visualize and the alertness to share a meaningful passage with my wife.  It's not just a pre-nap activity.

It is my favorite room of any house I’ve ever lived in.  I actually have opinions on décor which is a new thing for my wife and me to navigate (every room needs a framed 85’ Royals World Series poster right?).  I’ll say it again: I’m typing this from my library.  It is sanctioned tranquility.  The book shelves are only a quarter full right now, but the chess board is set-up, the chairs are warm and inviting and it is now ready for a visitor or two who can handle an evening without the chatter of a TV.  You are welcome anytime...

   

Thanks for reading,

-td

1. I may or may not have required my wife to sit in both chairs while I moved the feeder and bath six inches to the right, then two inches back, then three inches back to the left etc.  My wife may or may not have given me the, “are you serious?” look after the sixth bird viewing check.
2. Let’s be honest with ourselves\: When we lay down on a couch on a Sunday afternoon with a book, we are not reading.  We are justifying a nap by taking along a book. We wake up an hour and a half later saying, “Oh, wow I must have fallen asleep…”  We should just take a teddy bear next time and be more comfortable/honest.