I love my desk. It’s one of my favorite spots in the house, and I do spend quite a bit of my spare time here. I run two home businesses from my computer that sits at the center of this desk; one of these businesses keeps me busier than the other, bringing me back to my desk several times a day. I also spend time writing here; which I love to do to relax, though I will always find that fact quite curious.
This desk isn’t really my desk; it belongs to my sister. But she has allowed me to borrow it for now. She didn’t have a spot for it in her house and I needed a desk for my office when I opened my store, so she kindly let me use this family treasure. I don’t believe it is worth a lot of money, but this desk originally belonged to my grandparents and therein lies its value. I don’t know how old it is, but it certainly has a year or two in both centuries; maybe even three centuries.
It’s in very good shape, other than missing a drawer on the lower left side. It has two writing boards on each side that can be pulled in and out as needed. I often think about all the stories this desk must hold; stories it could share if only desks could speak. I don’t really remember where this desk sat in my grandparents’ house. My recollection is dim. I suspect that my grandpa wrote many a sermon here. And I am sure he paid a bill or two, and did some figuring on how much money he would make on those steers he bought each spring after purchasing them, and graining them up in the fall before butchering.
I imagine that Grandma sat here in front of this old desk, her chair pushed out, so she could cross her legs while she quickly sewed on a button that was torn from a flannel shirt worn by one of her boys. Maybe Grandma sat here and sewed lace on to her youngest daughter’s pretty new dress that she had just finished making for her. I don’t know. But I do know this desk has been loved and cared for. I know my sister loved it – simply because she loved to whom it originally belonged. I’m not sure where she used it in her house, either, but I can imagine it held a photo or two of some of the many people that she loves.
I love my desk for its history. I love it for its solidness, sturdy and strong. I love it for its purpose. My envelopes are always where they need to be and so is my tape and paper clips, staples and stamps. I always know right where my phone book is and my address book. Everything has its place making my life just a little easier. It holds my favorite coffee mug with the beagle on front that was given to me by my mom and dad a few years ago for my birthday. It holds photo cards made by one who has since passed on and it holds a photo of both sets of my grandparents.