Why Didn’t You

We bought it as a surprise for his 50th birthday.

It took a lot of planning to arrange delivery that Monday because it was also Labor Day. However, Ethan Allen promised to make the delivery happen, and so it did.

The desk was really almost too big to fit into the small room where it eventually found a home. It became a haven more than a work space.

At one time or another, he sat there while important family problems, lectures and/or choices were being decided or discussed. I always sat in the chair next to his as we planned our next vacation and then in later years, visits to the Fabulous Four as their wings spread across our beautiful country.

The night he died, I sat there alone while I made a list of how he wanted to say good bye. Then I made the arrangements knowing I had followed his wishes.

It was made of dark almost gloomy wood and had a roll top, which fascinated every young child who ever visited. There were twelve small drawers visible when the top rolled back, and also, two side sections with even more nooks. One of those side drawers remained locked until its’ owner moved upwards where angels don’t need desks.

I remembered it yesterday when the small blue desk I brought with me to Michigan literally overflowed with paper, receipts, lists and memorabilia. That’s wheh I thought, “Why didn’t I bring THE desk?”

Of course, I know why. It was far too big. It would have eliminated any space for a bed, so obviously, there was no choice.

It was a treasure, though and should not have been abandoned, the way it was. The Fabulous Four and I each hoped one of the others would say, “I want it. I will take it.”

But that didn’t happen. It was well beyond the middle age stage of desk life, and the dark wood was scratched in more than one place. The roll top still functioned, but its groan was significantly louder each time it did.

The twelve drawers were now empty, and almost seemed sad without the neatly stacked notebooks, maps and precise notes the owner once maintained.

The pictures that he lined up like wooden soldiers were gone, too.

The empty desk seemed to mourn his absence the same way all who knew him did. Maybe that’s why we all said, “I don’t want it.”

But I know if he saw how cluttered mine is, overflowing with assorted papers in various sizes and shapes, he would shake his head, and say,

“Why didn’t you take mine?”