I walked into the living room and just stood there for a while looking at the furniture--the twin blue chairs that used to be in my grandmother's house; the matching ottoman; and the two tree stump sidetables that came from actual eucalyptus trees from our ranch house in Fallbrook. I looked around at the walls, the chair rail, the floors. And for the first time, I finally felt like the best and smartest thing for me to do is to move out of this house and find a space that is my own.
So there it is. Time to move on....
There's something about carrying our history around in things, isn't there? I don't think I knew those much admired tables were from trees on property where you grew up! For what it's worth, this feels right to me, too.
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