30 November 2017

About A Nightstand

Oh, I have no idea but perhaps some of you will remember how I was twenty-four and found this sweet white nightstand in the alleyway trash and dragged it back in the snow to my apartment. She was just what I always wanted. White and shabby, the delicate lil crystal pulls. And she has stayed my soft, cluttered lil landing pad ever since. I feel such a need to document her from time to time, and so here is how she was, early on a cold Thursday morn', three weeks out from winter. 

It's how all the things are just things but also so much more, memories, and small pieces of my soul, and when taken altogether they seem so happy in one another's company. The perfume that can be adored midday with just a reach over to be sniffed. The letter stamps have a beautiful story behind them. A 70-cent vase. How the pillowcases don't match, not precisely, but seem like kindred friends meant always to find one another. 

It's as much (or more) a portrait of me than my face could be. 

Oh and I must tell you of that book on the nightstand ~ how it is one that speaks so directly, so intimately to my soul that it hasn't left my bedside since my friends gifted it to me some months ago...I honestly wish I could give it away to every beautiful girl I know. 

And as I head to bed now (after a lil bit of French vanilla ice cream), I send warm thoughts that your own nightstand makes you just as immensely happy, as tirelessly hopeful. Because a nightstand can do that (I swear it). 

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