Seasons of a Home

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Over the past two years, I've been collecting things that were at my parents' house. Some things -- mostly items I could't quite part with just yet -- have landed at my house by default. Others have arrived by design. These were things I knew I wanted, even if I didn't quite know what to do with them.

Two of these items were small pieces of black furniture, one from my parents' basement, and one from their media room. I didn't have particular destinations in mind, but I knew I wanted those two small pieces.

I found a home for the occasional table first, replacing a chair that was more placeholder than decorative choice. Atop the table, I placed the black music box a friend gave me when my mom passed away.

Perfect.

Later, when I got flowers from a castmate in a show I was doing, I set the music box on the sill behind the table and used the table as a place of honor for the flowers. My mom, who never missed a show I was in, would've loved that.

The taller piece of furniture replaced a desk-type unit I've long wanted to get rid of, but kept because I needed the storage. It took some weeding, some relocating and a sense of what I wanted the new piece to hold, but I eventually got it just right.

Then, a few weeks ago, my dad and I finally unpacked and sorted a box of photos and decor that had begun to gather dust in his living room. Inside was a small watercolor of a house we used to live in, one that traveled from house to house to apartment to condo....

To here.

Unlike the furniture, this memento was easy to find a home for. It fit perfectly above the second piece of furniture -- the tall black unit that had held books and DVDs in my parents' media room.

When I was moving furniture around my dining room in search of homes for the things I'd brought him, I had no final scheme in mind. It's obvious, now, however, as I look around the room, that I've created Mom spots. Had I set out to do so, it would have felt contrived but, as it is, it feels natural.

Right.

There are still a number of things in boxes, and framed pieces that need homes, but, as I've always been a student of the "evolving" school of design, I'm not in a big hurry. In time, all of these things will find their rightful places and, given how things have landed so far, I'm okay with that.

After all, every house needs time and seasoning in order to become a home.