2000 > December 7
there's a kitty on my scanner
12:00 PM

I've decided that I need to surround myself with more beautiful things. I need a place to read and write that feels more cozy—to arrange my physical environment in a way that reflects what I'm trying to do intellectually. When I think of peaceful and inspiring places to work, I often imagine my grandmother's attic in Marblehead. She had a wonderful old house with paintings and books absolutely everywhere. She and my grandfather (who died before I was old enough to know him) both painted, and they had some individual talents as well. My grandfather, for example, made beautiful duck carvings, and Bama was a writer who actually managed to support herself for a while by selling poems to magazines.

The attic, which had been converted into a bedroom, was constructed with a beautiful wood and then filled with the products of my grandparents' creativity. Books spilled out of all the shelves. There was a large window at one end of the room, but I can't seem to remember what exactly I could see when I looked out of it—the backyard, I know, but there was more—possibly just the houses in the neighborhood, though I associate the room with a view of the sea. That might just be because my grandfather did several paintings of boats, many of which hung there.

I visited Bama one summer and made plans to spend the next summer living with her and studying in her attic. She was proper and rather snobbish, with a dry but appealing sense of humor and a fondness for cognac. We got along well. But soon after I returned from my visit, I got a call saying she was sick, and she died about six months later. She was 80.

I think I need to bring a little of her attic into my study, somehow. She left me some beautiful books (including a few signed first editions) and some paintings that I can have my aunt send to me. Perhaps I'll send away for them and begin placing them strategically around the room.

I would try plants, but I've managed to kill every plant I ever owned, and I find it a little depressing. I'm a much better pet-mama than plant-mama.

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Shasta Turner