aka the china cabinet into the storage unit! It is massive (219 cm tall, that's over 7 ft and almost a meter deep), but thankfully the top half detaches from the bottom. And of course, the dining room now looks spacious. I kind of like the old thing, the homespun craftsmenship, dovetailing, and plain dignity of it. It may or may not be valuable, but I can't keep it in any house I'm going to live in any time soon, more suited to a rambling old farmhouse with 12 foot ceilings.
There are also so many sad memories with this cabinet. It seems to hold a dark cloud of sadness in its dark victorian depths. In the top was all the china and crystal that was used so rarely. In the bottom went various bits of stuff that my parents didn't know what to do with: all those Christmas tchochkes from my father's business associates, 60's cloth napkins and placemats in acqua, green and orange, home movie cameras and reels, slides... then there was the alcohol and chocolate. My father's vice and mine, respectively, side by side. It just struck me a month or two ago how eerily the two forbidden substances coexisted there for years while I swore I would never be like my father as I mimicked his every step in alcohol with my food: the closet bingeing, the shame, the isolating, the supressed rage and fear, the hopelessness.
The reasons for selling it aren't merely physical. I think it's time to move on with my life.
1 comment:
What a beautiful, majestic piece of furniture! If I had been living near you, I would have inquired about it. It looks so sturdy and well-made unlike most of the crap that's being made these days. I dream of owning furniture like that!
But it's understandable that you had to part from it. You don't need anything to remind you of your dark days of addiction. You're moving on with your life! Congratulations!
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