Well, I have a little desk. It's an old writing desk my mom and dad gave me as a present when I graduated high school in 2010. It stands by my east window where the sun comes in each morning and makes the pale yellow curtains glow, dappled by the tree that's near. Sometimes the moon shines its light in too, delighting me with its silver flood. I think my desk is especially pretty in the moonlight. The desk has two little top shelves. The upper-most shelf is quite packed with my growing little personal library:
Emma, The Scarlet Pimpernel,The Shepherd of the Hills, Jane Eyre, Pilgrims Progress, Best Loved Plays (Shakespeare), about four or five poetry books, some books I found at the flea market and intend to read sometime,
Grimm's Fairy-tales, Thai folk tales that Pintip left here,
Uncle Tom's Cabin, and others. Right now there is a huge vacant spot next to
Jane Eyre. When I am done with
David Copperfield, the vacant spot may shift to, perhaps, where Shakespeare's plays now sit. For Christmas, Aunt Anita gave us all a framed picture of Nanna with Trenton and Irene of their wedding day. This picture is the centerpiece of the second shelf where it is flanked on the right by a beautiful book of Jane Austin's seven novels and on the left by another copy of Pilgrim's Progress which is stacked on top of a complete set of Shakespeare's poems. There also lays a couple of dried roses. Those are not the only dried flowers laying around my room. I like getting flowers, and I don't really like having to throw the whole bouquet away, so sometimes I save one or two of the petaled beauties. Then there is the writing table, which when folded down, reveals a row of little vertical cubicles. I do not know the intended purpose for these little slots, but I have dedicated some of the space to house my devotional books. I can also file away those letters to which I need to respond. I keep some stationary on hand in case I am inspired to write some snail mail. I really do like letter writing--and receiving. It takes time and thought--and a little bit of money--to write and send a letter, so I always consider them an extra-special gesture. I sit at my desk and read the loopy handwriting of a friend or cover a page (or two or three) of stationary with stories and thoughts and life. Here, I also open Bible and journal, and sometimes spend quite a bit of time. I have a little empty chocolate box that I decorated and re-purposed to hold my return address labels. There is also a single puzzle piece that I painted. I think it is pretty, so I keep it there. Some peacock neck feathers flutter a little each time I open the desk to use it. Patrice Doolittle gave those to me when I stayed at her house down in Louisiana. Below the desk is a low shelf where I keep a little assortment of things. A scrapbook stands upright in the corner. It is the Senior memory book I had to write and compile for English. I read some of the entries now and cringe at my awkward style. I intend to develop my voice more and improve my writing. Next to that book of myself is a vase full of paint brushes, and next to that lays my high school diploma and two Seneca yearbooks (2007-08, 2009-10) with my yellow graduation rose resting on top. And there the little desk stands, under the sun or stars, a little sample of "me".
Stop and look around you. Is there something you see that represents you. If you like to write, try writing a similar "about me". If you think writing is a chore, I am so sorry you feel that way. You might be surprised at how enjoyable it is to write about something you love. Try it.
