Saturday, November 25, 2017

I need my desk

Since, as long as I can remeber, I have had a desk. First, it was red plastic table with a matching red chair. Then as I grew out of that, it was an ironing board which doubled up as my table. Finally I got a wooden table with a wooden chair. For the past 10 years, that was my (0,0,0,x) position for x>=16 hours a day. I imagined, I learned and I slaved at that place. I used to complain about the little imperfections that made up my desk. The sharp edge sometimes scratched my hand; the lack of a drawer annoyed me. Furthermore, I sometimes detested the outmoded styling of it. It looks like something out a 60's movie.However, no matter how much I complain, that is my ground zero. That was my place.

Now that I am in a place far away from home, away from my desk, I realize the void it has left. I miss the stack of books I kept on the left and my little wooden pen stand which had drawings of tigers and other animals of Corbett National Park. I miss the etchings I made when I felt like my world was collapsing.

These days I do have a desk at work but I don't think I'll ever feel that connection with it. I miss my desk because despite it's imperfections it was perfect for me.

2 comments:

  1. It's the little things that count....life is so simple sometimes...lol

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    1. Exactly, things we thought were inconsequential turn out to be so important

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