Today I moved into my first real, adult apartment. I’ve lived in apartments before, but it’s always been a sublet situation or a fully furnished summer situation. This time it’s just me and my moving tubs piling into an unfurnished two bedroom waiting for The Man to show up with the bed. (I am calling the week before his arrival my “adventure camping” stage.)
Without the comfort of modern life, The Internet, I shall become a hermit destined for movie watching and even more knitting attempts (See “The Real Vows”). On top of that I will engage in what is my new favorite pastime. I absolutely adore decorating this new home in my mind. The Man and I are poor as dirt, so thoughtful moments or even astral decorating are all I can muster.
I walk through the mind’s Pottery Barn or Pier 1 with thoughts of maritime themed decks and rich mahogany desks. Every once in a while I even stroll by The Man’s dream of a rotating book shelf door. Yes… it’s a wonderful experience, though there is something more than simply dreaming. I want to continue a legacy… The Mom’s legacy to be exact.
See, The Mom has a love – no a passion – for decorating. The House went through the seasons like a well-groomed celebrity couple. We switched out entire decorative schemes, erected nutcracker armies, and lit every scent of Yankee Candle known to man. The Mom held open houses periodically and hosted parties just to show off the decorations, reveling in the beauty on her own in the evenings with a nice cup of tea.
There was, however, a dark side to this beauty. Every holiday seemed to provide The Mom with a brilliant idea: using the holiday candy as a display. The Dad and I would bound down the stairs gleefully just to grab the first handful of candy pumpkins, jelly beans, or hershey kisses just to be scolded with the wrath of every Martha Stewart devotee.
“Display Candy” was never to be eaten, simply observed.
So now as I sit on my own in The Apartment, I can’t help but feel the prick of duty. I must carry on the family name. It is a powerful thought, an ennobling thought.
The Family Women will be proud.