Friday, December 15, 2017
It means different things to diferent people, sometimes as large as a 30 acre estate or halfway house or church, sometimes as small as a child's bed where they burrow into blankets and dream. It's a kind of Safe Place, not necessarily from danger, but personal.
A place where all your tools or toys or dreams are kept in one area. No one disturbs them.
I've never been much for personal rooms, since the house I live in is as much an overall personal space for me as anything--but even my bedroom at home was far from a sanctuary, since Mother invaded it regularly, snooped in my bureau, read my diaries. It was my space, but in name only.
And I've always wondered at people who have untouchable spaces, sewing rooms, or craft areas, or even tool sheds or home offices. This summer I found mine, and never realized it until recently. It's sort of a movable feast, and right now it's a sewing place in the dining room. Sewing machine, ironing board, the dining room table covered with a thin rug to keep it from scratches since it's my temporary cutting table. Light, heat, storage, space.
Now I get it. When you enter that space, you claim it as yours. You know where everything is, and why it's there. My husband's workshop is that way, he has chisels and carpenter's planes there that go back to his grandfather's time, as well as his own stuff. He can walk out there, and say, did you use one of my screw drivers today? He doesn't mind, but he knows immediately if it's missing or moved.
Do you have a space like that, that works for you?
Posted by mittens at 9:39 PM