I love being in this new space. The whole long, slow process has been a lesson in the good and bad of owning a home. What a headache, yes. What dull problems to occupy our minds. But what rewards! The room reminds me of the importance of our environment - how beauty, color, texture, and light inform our emotions. As nearly one-third of our house has opened up again, we were able to move many toys and books from the living room back to the playroom. Everything in its place. (Imagine me sighing with contentment.)
We are going to try calling this the family room now, instead of the playroom. Which is surprising, because I have always been opposed to the very idea of a family room. A house should have one shared room, a living room, with all the books and music and cushy chairs and art on the walls that make both family members and guests feel at home. A place for all to live. Right?
To me, family room suggests a back room featuring a funny smell, plaid-covered couches and scraped-up tables, a big TV, bad lighting. Such rooms have pristine twins: rooms with clean surfaces, lump-free cushions, and nary a pile of old magazines in sight; rooms where a family can put on a good face and entertain. Where exactly I got this nasty idea about family rooms, I'm not sure. There is a whiff about them that calls to mind the suburban values that fall decidedly under the icky column: concern with surfaces, keeping messes hidden away, overconsumption (who the heck needs two living rooms?). I am all for sharing the happy detritus of everyday life - stray crayons, books, neglected mail, piles of kid art - with anyone who comes through the front door.
In short, I am for public dishevelment. A seemly modicum of domestic chaos that communicates to friends that it is a-okay to put your feet up and pour your own drink. (A note: moderate disorder is different from filth. I do clean, a little. Okay, a very little.)
(Another note: I hope my mother is not cringing as she reads this. I honestly think I formed a deep association between moderate mess and a hospitable house from the way she ran our home growing up. There were many spontaneous visits from friends and there were piles of stuff on the coffee table. I am sure the two are linked. She is the most gracious hostess I know.)
So, remember the icky column? We live in a split level in the suburbs. We have two living rooms! But part of the project of making a life here for ourselves is rehabilitating what it means to live in the suburbs. We love the space the run, to grow a garden, to host many trees. There are good things to be found in this strange new world, and so, it is time to embrace the family room.
The room is floored in warm cork that we picked out together at the surprisingly friendly Lumber Liquidators in Beltsville, MD. Our wonderful neighbor Thomas installed it and painted the walls. We put down a lovely green wool rug handed down to us from one of Mike's generous colleagues. We slid the big red chair out onto the rug, which once served as a smooth leather spaceship for my dad to ride in through his days of cancer treatment. It has a dark spot where his head once rested. I put up the adorable alphabet cards Edith sent for Gabriel's last birthday. The old-fashioned school desk we found in Lancaster sits next to the enormous desk that up until recently lived in Mike's parents' house. And on and on.
This is not a playroom, a place to sequester children (though it can, happily, work that way). This is our family's room. It contains things we chose, things we made, things we inherited and things we were given. It feels like a peaceful place to be together, a place that affirms us in the midst of all the complexity and uncertainty life invariably brings.
I smiled when I saw the forecast this morning: rain! A perfect day to do puzzles and read stories in the family room. Which is exactly what we did.
No comments:
Post a Comment