The Dressing Place

There is one cool spot in our house. That’s right… only one. It’s the same one that we have chosen to serve as our office, our living room, and most recently… it has also become our bedroom.

But before it was all these things… it was Mikey’s dressing room. Made me giggle when I figured out what he was doing.

Let me explain.

See… my sister and I had the privilege of growing up in a house heated entirely by one wood-burning stove. Was it a romantic log cabin deep in the mountains? nope. Was it a one-room-schoolhouse-turned-home-for-four? nope. Was it built off the grid? nope. Was it built before modern technology? nope.

he he

It was, however, owned by one of the most efficient, wise, and thrifty men you have ever known… my beloved father.

Sometimes I think back to the winter evenings that he, my sister, and I spent traipsing through the woods with armloads of wood. We’d hold our arms out, and Dad would stack us up with chopped wood. And I think of how I was most often nominated as the one who should climb into the small wood-bin to stack the wood (that is the most efficient way of fitting the most in, you know) while Daddy and Sarah chucked it in the door at me. (Okay… maybe they really didn't chuck it at me). Once the bin was full, we’d play some fox and goose, write “We love you Mom” in the snow with our tracks, drink some hot chocolate, and call it a night. Pretty sure I hated hauling wood in those days. But now, as a mature adult (uh… kinda) I can see why it was a good thing for a couple scrawny girly girls to do as children. And now I’m kinda glad we had to do it. (Ever think I’d thank you for that, Dad?)

BUT… the landing on which the wood stove resided was, in fact… the warmest place in the house (of course). And I have certain memories of Sar and I grabbing our clothes, and rushing down to the landing to get dressed on the especially cold mornings. It was much more bearable to sit and try to get into those tapered leg jeans and pull on the turtleneck and neon sweater near the warmth of the stove than in the bedroom.

This brings me back to my point. The other day... my dear, dear Mikey… grabbed his clothes from the muggy bedroom and went to get dressed near the cooler that was producing the coldest air.

Some things never change...