The Box Room

There’s a room in our house that has remain untouched since we moved in almost a year ago. The box room. Every other room has our stamp on it in some way. Revived from the millennial beige that was omnipresent. Walls painted. Prints hung. Pictures framed.

But the box room remained as it was. Plain hole ridden walls. Bright jigsaw print curtains the only sign of its previous occupant.

This room, next to ours, always had a clear purpose. One that we didn’t want to tempt fate by pursuing too soon. Even though the dream was hatched long before we got the keys. The dream was undeniable. To me. To my husband. We shared it before we uttered a vow, spoke to a broker, viewed a home. It was and is the sparkling thread of the life we started weaving together five years ago.

The box room remained the same, despite this dream. From the day we moved in, it was, in keeping with its name, home only to boxes. Full of books and pretty objects that we displayed proudly in the previous museum of our lives. These boxes were never meant to stay there long. The box room would need to be decorated when our dream came true.

But the dream hasn’t come true. The Pinterest boards and colour swatches that support it continue to accumulate dust, becoming pixelated and obscured.

I could decorate the box room three times over with Clear Blue cardboard, blister packs, alcohol wipes, sharps bins, raised hopes and dashed beliefs. But that wouldn’t be a conducive environment for the dream. Resentment is too cool a blue. Jealously too vibrant a green. Anger too vivid a red.

While our shared dream waits for my body to recover, and our spirits to find the will, I’ve decided to create a space that can hold others. This process starts with destruction and repair. I scrape out old caulk with violent satisfaction. I fill gaping holes with reverent tenderness. Both flow from me with ease.

I hold the capacity for all of it. For destruction and for nurturing. For love and for loss. For screaming anguish and peaceful rest. For living nightmares and for absent dreams. Just as the box room does.