Sunday, May 4, 2008

My old chest of drawers



Past: For the first six or so years of my life, I had this ugly grey bedroom furniture that had belonged to my father, I believe, when he was a boy. But I was just a little kid. What did I know—or care—about furniture. And then, one day, along came this new (massive!) bedroom furniture. A full-size bed with a headboard, dresser with mirror, chest of drawers, and a nightstand. It was very grown-up looking. And brown. I hated brown. Especially when I started to notice that my friends all had pretty white bedroom furniture with little pink flowers painted on it. Oh, how I wanted furniture with pink flowers, too. It’s only redeeming quality was that the middle section of the brass handles looked a lot like Sally from the Peanuts.

A decade or so later, I grew into this furniture and its classic good looks and quality craftsmanship were something at last I could appreciate. After graduating from college, this dresser, the nightstand, and my bed and headboard came with me to my first apartment in Boston. They later came with me to my Newton apartment and—with enough wall space at last—I was able to bring up the dresser and mirror, too. Of course, things were still pretty cramped. Even now as a happy homeowner—I just didn’t have enough room for all this furniture in the bedroom.

Present: I’ve seen enough of those home decor shows on HGTV to know that I only had one choice: I had to remove a piece of furniture from the bedroom. And with nowhere else to put that piece of furniture—but enough closet space to hang all those clothes—I posted it on Craigslist for $50—and a story. I needed to know it was going to the right home—and that it wouldn’t be cast out to the curb in a year or two along with the particleboard furniture.

The woman I sold it to had just moved into an apartment in the North End from out of state and was looking to get settled without spending too much money. What really interested me though was that she already had one dresser that looked to be almost an exact replica of the one I was selling. This made me feel like I was reuniting long-lost twins or something! Her aunt and a good friend came down in a minivan to pick up the dresser, told me how nice of a dresser it was—and how much it looked like the other woman’s—and that was that.

I’d be lying if I told you that I wasn’t at all sad seeing the minivan drive off with my childhood dresser . . . but I’m confident that it went to the right new home.

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