I have a ritual I go through whenever I purchase (or rescue) a new “second hand” piece of furniture.   First, I find just the right space in my home for it to settle into.  Sometimes it needs a bit of a freshening up – maybe a coat of paint or new drawer pulls.  I lovingly clean it, and depending on what piece of furniture it is, I fill its shelves with china, or line its drawers with scented paper.  I view it as an adoption of sorts.  More than likely, it belonged to another family in its former life and now it is left in my care.  These new “members” of my family arrive without papers or any identifying information as to who owned them prior to ending up at the flee market or the local resale shop.  Once comfortable in its new space – a space filled with many other orphans – I assign it a story.  Imagining who loved this piece of furniture before me, I conjure up imagery of newlyweds buying their first bedroom set, or a farmer who made due with found wood to build his family a kitchen table.  I wonder about what route it took to my home;  how much of the country –  or maybe even the world – it has seen. Continue reading →