New chapters I’ve learned can take you to places or situations you’d never have pictured yourself in. For instance not so long ago, I took over my parent’s home. It’s that time of life. I bought it shortly after Mom died. It was the only way to keep my then 98 year old Dad in his own home over his end of days and having just lost his bride of 72 years, it seemed the right thing to do. In the fullness of time my Dad also died in that home, just 26 days shy of 100, in his own bed and thank heavens, peacefully.
So there I was..alone in their, now my, home. Its a gracious property in the mountains and in the 20 or so years they had lived there they had made it beautiful. It housed their entire history…telling the tale of their long and good lives through the books, art and photos it held. New chapters however demand their own changes, symbolic moments perhaps of the new. Thinking along those lines, my eyes landed on Mom’s bedroom drapes. Pink drapes and, sorry Mom, I am not a pink person. What to do? The drapes were in great shape just not the right color. “Apricot!” I thought. “I can dye them apricot!” Off to the store to buy the dye.
The task ahead involved taking all twelve panels down and putting them, one by one, in the bathtub of hot water/dye solution and stomping on the soaking drapes for 20 minutes. Because it was a messy job I figured best to do this in my birthday suit. I did not foresee the fact that my feet and hands would turn flaming apricot. Never mind. Next step was to stuff the dyed and sopping panel into a big plastic bag,…schlep it to the washing machine, plop it in and while that was going return for the next round of stomping. Times twelve.
I timed the first panel and figured I had just the right amount of time before I had to be ready. Ready for my dinner guests. That night I was having my first dinner party at the house. Now, WHY I felt it was imperative to get the drapes done that particular afternoon is beyond me. Apparently it was part of my inner ‘new chapter’ routine. Anyway, most inconveniently my timing was off because just as I was putting the last panel into the washing machine, the door bell rang. This would have been fine except for the fact that of course I was buck naked and my clothes were on the other side of the house, past the front door and entry windows. Doorbell dinging, dogs barking, I could but crawl stealthily below the windows as fast as possible in order to get to my clothes and throw them on so that I could then open the door to my waiting guests. They awaited their tardy hostess with the flaming apricot hands and feet and the rest of the evening went off without a hitch I’m relieved to report.
I cannot recommend this method of new chapter building as in my case, the drapes shrank. Sorry again, Mom. When I look at the new drapes now I think about that madwoman stomping in the bathtub. What was driving me? Some caveman like urge to make a space my own? The whole episode seems tied to some ancient ritual designed to honor the old and bring in the new, it was connected to some primal need to create a line in the sand between then and now. A demarkation in the continuum.
Either that or I truly just don’t like pink drapes. Your call.