Papa’s Desk
Let go and release — the practice of intentional living
Just recently, I donated an old writing desk that once belonged to my grandfather. The desk was made in the early to mid-twentieth century. The top surface included small partitioned sections that would only fit very small things. It had a single drawer with a wooden handle. The quality of the wood was questionable as the desk had been painted over in black. It was sturdy and functional. Mom referred to it as Papa’s desk which gave it sentimental value.
In Atlanta, Papa’s desk lived in my kitchen. This area of the house was open and bright. The dark desk was a nice contrast to my seafoam colored kitchen. It was in the corner of the kitchen that faced the living room. Beside it was a Christmas cactus resting on a plant stand. Above it was a picture of a little black girl sitting in a chair and knitting. The picture is titled: Woman’s Work is Never Done. I liked writing from Papa’s desk with this little girl looking down on me. The desk was used often. It was a perfect fit for my life.
When I moved from Atlanta to Washington, DC, I brought Papa’s desk with me. I had been living in a 3-level townhouse for the last six years and would be moving into a 1-bedroom apartment. I would need to reduce what I had by at least half, if not more. Many things that I liked did not make this move. I wasn’t ready to let go of the desk. I assumed that I would use it in the same way in my new life as I had in my old life. It never occurred to me that I would not write from Papa’s desk again.
There was plenty of room for Papa’s desk in my first apartment in Washington, DC. The old, 1- bedroom apartment was 950 square feet. The desk fit comfortably in the living room. Most of my first year in DC was spent transitioning into a new life. I was not settled enough to write. When I wrote, it was mostly in my journal and from my bed. It didn’t help that 6 months into my lease that baby mice appeared along with a couple of roaches in the kitchen. The last 6 months of my lease was spent keeping the little critters at bay, while looking for a new place to live.
Papa’s desk came with me when I moved about a mile north into Maryland. The apartment building was only 2 years old. I gained nice amenities but lost 200 precious square feet. The only space for the desk was in my bedroom. I began to settle and I began to write. Strangely, whenever I wrote in my bedroom, I sat in a reclining chair by the window.
It was during this last move in November that I began to feel differently about Papa’s desk. I had an opportunity to move to a higher floor in the building. While the layout was roomier and I gained a few extra feet, the desk would still only fit in my bedroom. It was a heavy and obtrusive presence. It occurred to me that I had not used the desk in six years. I had to consider its value in my life. It was time to let go of Papa’s desk.
My emotional attachment to the desk was the only thing preventing me from letting go of Papa’s desk. Perhaps Papa’s desk was a way to create a connection between me and a man that I never knew. He died 22 years before I was born. I’m under the impression that he was a good man — he worked, was a deacon at his church and provided a nice home for his family. He was a tall and large framed man. I didn’t have a sense of his personality — Did he whistle around the house? What was his laugh like? My grandfather died when my mother was only 13, stunting her adolescent memory of him.
It’s understandable to feel sentimental about a piece of furniture that once belonged to my grandfather. It was a way to fill in a missing piece of my life. But sentimentality shouldn’t stand in the way of my present life — the real life that I’m living right now.
Letting go and releasing is essential to intentional living. We can’t hold on to everything from our past and be in the present. To grab hold of one thing often requires letting go of something else. Making these choices, as we practice intentional living, doesn’t have to be so serious and arduous. It can be as simple as knowing and choosing what we really want. I wanted a comfortable bedroom with more space. Something had to go — something I once used and will continue to feel sentimental about — Papa’s desk.
