As a pre-wedding gift, my Aunt Kathy bought me a coffee table book. This is ironic for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that my husband and I did not own a coffee table. We had neither the proverbial pot, nor the window. A coffee table was not a priority. The second was that the book was titled “A Room of Her Own”. It seemed an odd choice for a girl getting ready to pledge to share a room for the rest of her life.
It was especially odd for me as I have never had my own room, except a brief stint in college when my roommate dropped out unexpectedly. I have been blessed to share my space with awesome people, so I have never really thought about it.
Fast-forward a few years, and I am starting to understand the desire for one’s own space. Unfortunately, my epiphany came, just as we filled the last bedroom with a crib.
I know I am not the only parent who desires some personal space. I have heard of people who hang out in their cars, or who spend a few extra minutes in the bathroom. I even heard of one woman hiding in her closet with a flashlight. In times of extreme desperation, I have thrown a blanket over my head and told the kids I’m on sabbatical. It works for the older kids. The baby just thinks I’m terrible at peek-a-boo as she tugs at the blanket.
I look at the book and feel a twinge of jealousy. These women’s spaces range from formal office to outdoor getaway. I dream about my future sanctuary: the beautiful artwork on the walls, the collection of pens tucked away in the desk, the Jazz playing in the background.
That sanctuary is at least a few years away. In the meantime, I’m grateful for the oversized chair in the corner of my living room. It’s where I think. It’s where I dream. It’s where I write. It is my sanctuary.
Your sanctuary doesn’t have to be color coordinated or have a fantastic view. But it should be the place where you can craft and color your own view of the world.