TheWRITEaddiction.com

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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.