Thursday, October 1, 2009
I hope you aren't expecting something juicy in the way of a confession. Oh, I have a lot of those - tidbits of embarrassment and humiliation and treachery - but that's not why I'm here tonight.
I'm here to confess that I have never seen where any of my daughters live. No, really. They've all moved in the past few months and I have no idea what their places look like.
Here is how I imagine them:
Daughter number one: She lives mostly in her bedroom. Her computer is on the bed; the bed is unmade. Her clothes? Some are put away and some draped over the furniture. If you were to walk in the kitchen of her apartment, the only evidence of her would be the garbage can full of take-out containers. She has lots of books and notebooks and school supplies, both for herself and from when she was a teacher. Probably a few pictures of friends and family around, but not many. She's gone alot; I can't see her sitting around in the living room with her roomies.
Daughter number two: Her place is a beehive of creativity. One whole room is devoted to art: bookmaking supplies (gorgeous papers, glue, fabric), leathers, buttons, maybe a canvas or two. Most of what you see in her place is useful, nothing extravagant or fluffy or prissy. There are books, and again, a few photographs around of friends and family. There is a lot of art in the space, hers and others. Her kitchen is stocked and one can tell she cooks for herself and her friends. She has lots of carefully chosen things around her place. Her place is a peaceful spot.
Daughter number three: Her apartment looks like the showroom of Anthropologie. Her kitchen is fully stocked with dishes and she uses them all. Her closet is organized but looks haphazard. There are lots of throws on the furniture. Her walls are covered in pictures and she has lots and lots of family photographs. And shoes. Lots of shoes. A large proportion of the toiletries in the bathroom are hers. She has carefully chosen books on a funky bookshelf. She and her friends sit in the living room and drink wine or tea or cocktails before they go out on the town.
I could be way off base, and they can correct me if I'm wrong. But this is how I imagine their living spaces. It helps when I miss them to think of them safe and happy in their homes.