Solidity--

I got a lovely new-to-me solid wood writing table yesterday. A friend of mine holds estate sales, and she'd posted a photo of this very-much-needed desk. I needed it. Seriously--not just because my existing one is a an unsteady, very utilitarian Amazon wonder, but my very being needed it. You are all aware of how unbelievably unsettled things have been of late, and this desk is solid wood. I think it's maple. It's heavy. It has drawers--more than I need, even. Mostly, though, I think I was not just drawn to the overall beauty of the piece, I was, and am, comforted by the solidity of it. 

There is very little right now in my daily life that I would call "solid," in the sense of dependable, routine, and so on. To have a lovely workspace, one that holds all my stuff and has room for more, one that I can write at, think at, and just sit at-- it's an altar of sorts to my inner self. I need a sanctuary, and so, the desk.

I'm sure I'll tweak what goes where, and fill up those drawers. For now, though, I'm happy to have a surface that is broad, steady, and safe. Solid.

I hope you have a good day,

C