Repurpose (rē-pûr'pəs): To use or convert for use in another format or product
I pass by it probably fifty times a day - our extra bedroom turned nursery turned kids’ room. It’s the first door on my right as I leave the den and head down the hall to our guest bathroom, laundry room or guest room where I often spend hours of my day on the computer.
I pass by it fifty times a day and yet I rarely even glance in there.
I remember feeling an urgency to get it all put together. Paying to have the room painted a soft buttery yellow. Refinishing my MIL’s childhood bed and custom ordering a mattress for it. Hurrying to make a quilt of happy vibrant colors to use as a bedspread. Looking for the perfect apple green lamp and rug to match. Filling the shelves with stacks of books so there would be no shortage of bedtime stories. Searching antiques stores looking for the perfect little table and chair where a child could spend hours working on puzzles, coloring, and creating.
It’s all there. Yet I can not stand to look at it.
It feels hollow and empty in there, like a beautiful garden planted with love and then left too long to dry out and shrivel in the darkness.
Other people don’t see that, of course. Kids who visit promptly go marching in to sit at the table to work on Legos or spread out on the floor to read or play. I had a lot of compliments on the room over the holidays as various people lowered their voices and leaned in to ask about how the “adoption thing” was going with that solemn (pitying) look on their faces.
The room that was meant to be a child’s haven is still and quiet.
Where we should have had to make our way carefully around toys left scattered on the floor, I’ve piled up garbage bags filled with things to donate to the Sal*vation Army.
Where a child should have sat working puzzles, I’ve got a last few Christmas decorations that need to make their way back to the Christmas closet.
Where little shirts and jeans and coats should have hung, my husband’s summer clothes await the return of warm weather.
Where a child should have jumped up and down on their bed, coats lay piled when we have guests visit.
Where a child should have slept each night, an occasional friend lays her head.
I have boxes of antiques – some of my very favorite things that never found their place in our new home – waiting for the day when it’s time to make changes to that dark silent room.
I’ve actively worked towards becoming a mom for three years, and dreamed of it for more decades than that. But I realize that when the day comes to finally repurpose that room, so too will I have to make the choice to repurpose my life.
And I have no idea what that will look like.
Absolutely none.
