Girlie post filled with domestic details … :<\/p>\n
My mother and I had been talking about getting nice curtains for my main room for about a year now. One of those: “We’ve got to do that …” But then finally – last month, we went to pick out fabric, after I had measured the windows. The project had begun. She and I went together, browsed, asked questions, I agonized over my choices, I tried to picture living<\/i> with the fabric, day in, day out …<\/p>\n
I had a fantasy for my room. My room has pale yellow walls. It has a gorgeous hard-wood floor. I have a small Oriental rug, with dark colors – dark blue-black, deep maroon … The ceiling is high, and old-fashioned – it has a pattern on it, like those old tin ceilings. It’s a white painted ceiling. Then I also have a huge ceiling fan. On one wall I have a large window, with a nice wide sill. This is where I live. I have a small kitchen off to the side, but I spend all my time in that main room. I’ve got dingy blinds in the window, leftovers from the former tenant, completely uninteresting.<\/p>\n
I’m not into sunlight, really. I don’t like bright colors, they give me a headache, and make me nervous, and I like my room to feel a wee-bit cave-like. Cozy. Like I can shut the world away, and be safe and warm in my humble abode. Basically, what I’m saying is – billowy sheer white curtains are not my style.<\/p>\n
So I picked out this heavy dark fabric – a deep dark chocolate-y brown, with a Paisley pattern in it (but not a Paisley pattern that would give you a migraine … it’s more like the memory<\/i> of a Paisley pattern, swirling through the dark brown). I just liked it. It reminded me of a dream. I could see it … the dark brown in contrast to the pale yellow walls … I knew I could live with it. I loved it.<\/p>\n
My dear mother became a Tasmanian devil and made me the curtains in a matter of 2 days.<\/p>\n
She and my dad drove down yesterday to bring the curtains, and to hang out … spend a bit of time together …<\/p>\n
It’s in these circumstances, these moments of simple pleasures … that I realize, in my heart: There are moments, indeed, when curtains = love. I look at my gorgeous curtains and I can see the love that my mother has for me.<\/p>\n
My curtains make me ridiculously<\/i> happy.<\/p>\n
My dad brought his tools. And he went to work setting up the hooks, the brackets, measuring, marking, drilling, etc. You know, the “guy” side of curtain-hanging.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, my mother and I are busy huddled over the curtains, clipping on the little hooks, and handing up tools to my dad if he needed them. The “girl” side of curtain-hanging.<\/p>\n
It’s in a moment like that when I realize: my dad with the drill gun = love.<\/p>\n
It is not SAYING “I love you” that matters at all. It is what you DO. What do you DO?<\/p>\n
My dad was busy at work, doing his manly part of the project, and my mother was showing me the basket she had made for me – well, she didn’t make the basket itself – but she lined the basket with the same material as the curtains. To put on my dresser, perhaps.<\/p>\n
So there’s all these projects happening in my small space.<\/p>\n
And I felt kind of overwhelmed by love. You know? I felt lucky<\/i>. That’s what I felt.<\/p>\n
It was beautiful. Beautiful to have them down in my apartment, we talked, we laughed (once the curtains were up) – we sat in my little kitchen, we caught up a bit. I kept peeking back into my main room at the unbelievable GORGEOUSNESS of my new curtains. The deep dark brown folds, hanging next to the pale yellow walls … It changes the feel of my room. It feels cozy, enveloping … warm.<\/p>\n
Thank you, Mum, thank you, Dad … for … well, for everything. I woke up this morning, made coffee, sat in my little cozy chair, and stared up at my beautiful new curtains for, no word of a lie, 20 minutes.<\/p>\n
Reveling in the simple pleasure of it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Girlie post filled with domestic details … : My mother and I had been talking about getting nice curtains for my main room for about a year now. One of those: “We’ve got to do that …” But then finally … Continue reading