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.
I drink my coffee here most mornings as I read my email that has come in from the night before. And I check to see if I have had any sales from my businesses that may have come in overnight. As I sit here in the mornings, I always stop to look out the window to see if Skeeter is standing at the fence line waiting for his breakfast. He is not there this morning, now that he has all that lush green grass growing in his pasture. As I have said in a previous post, I like the location that my family has selected for my desk, allowing me to still be a part of all that is going on in our home.
My desk is messy right now. I need to clean it and take a nice photo to post with this blog. But then again, sometimes messy reveals more. Maybe my desk can share a story or two, after all....
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