On New Year’s Eve my betta Moonfire died. Quite the way to start the new year eh? He was always a sickly fish so I had known for quite a while that his passing was inevitable. I suppose most people would have flushed him a long time ago but he helped get me through a tough time and I wanted to give my little samurai fish a chance to fight out of it. Now his struggle has ended, but with his passing came some interesting opportunities for change.
Because Moonfire was always so sick I decided it would behoove me to drain the tank and clean everything, including boiling all the gravel, before finding another underwater friend to call it home. While I waited for each batch of gravel to boil I was working on another project that had been taking up room in my office for awhile and started to get annoyed by how small my desk is.
Now I love my desk, an inherited antique saved from my grandmother’s house by my great aunt Rita. The finish is fragile so its gained quite a few new dings and scratches in its time with me but its a beautiful and sturdy old piece. However, it was built at a time before computers had taken over and was mostly meant for simple letter writing etc. Sprawling it is not. This poses a problem when one has revision notes for a book in progress plus bills to pay, driver’s license renewal paper work and other projects all vying for space. What’s a writer to do?
With the betta tank drained for cleaning I realized now would be the perfect time to rearrange my office if ever there was one. Ten gallons of water in a glass box is rather difficult to haul around and re-position, after all. Rearrangement would give the perfect opportunity to bump up my desk space by bringing in a second piece to supplement.
Now, because I am both frugal and enjoy restoring aged things to their former glory, the added piece I brought in was also an antique given to me by my grandmother. This was the table my mother ate at briefly when she was a child, before it was turned into a work space in the greenhouse at my grandfather’s tree nursery. On his retirement it followed my grandparents to Roanoke, where it took up residence in the basement as a table for folding laundry. When grandma mentioned her intention to get rid of it, I asked if I could have it.
“What in the world are you going to do with that grungy old table?” she asked repeatedly. So did other relatives. Everyone thought I was nuts, and they had every right to. After all this was a dinky little table that time had a long forgotten, its white paint yellowed with age and of no particular meaning to anyone.
Nevertheless my parents loaded it up in the back of the van along with the four chairs that went with it and home it came to Wyoming.
I set right away to stripping off the old layers of paint, and many hours of elbow grease later discovered that the table was likely far older than anyone realized. The under layers had once included a magnificent green and gold leaf trimming , like something you might find at an old casino or hotel lobby.
I also discovered on the underside of the stabilizer that holds the four legs together, my mother’s initials written in a child’s scrawl with red marker (try as I might to preserve that bit, it simply wasn’t possible).
My mother’s initials, written long ago in a child’s hand
But what, you may wonder, did I find underneath all of those layers of history? Was it the ugly, warped and pitted press board or low quality lumber so many expected? Not at all. What I found was magnificent tight grain oak, thirsting for a good stain and a proper finish. Vindication in the end.
The table certainly shows its age but I finished it as best I could and took it with me to my first apartment where it once again served as a dining room table. When I was forced to move back in with my parents for a few years it became a desk, before Rita passed on the desk I use now. So for a number of years it has languished disassembled in my parents’ attic, waiting again for its time to shine. And now here it is, once more serving in a new life and a new place far removed from its origins.
As for the rearrangement, I’m liking it a lot. I have plenty of room, less clutter, and strangely the room feels like there’s more space in spite of the fact that I added another piece of furniture. I also threw out a lot of things I didn’t need anymore as part of this process, and my mind feels cleaner and more focused as a result.
The end result of my New Year’s Eve labors
I find it a poignant way to start the new year that out of the loss of a pet came the rebirth of an undervalued heirloom, healthy reorganization and reduction of clutter, and the improvement of a small part of life. Perhaps that was Moonfire’s final cut with his proverbial samurai fish katana; to cut away the clutter and disorder of my office to make room for things to grow and flourish. Though I will miss the little guy, I will be grateful to him for what his passing did for me. May he rest in peace in the ponds of ancestors.
Happy New Year, everyone. I hope your 2017 is amazing.
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