THE DEN
Could it be the only room you need?
In 1978, I thought if we had a swimming pool and tennis courts—at our house—it would be nirvana. My brothers and I practiced our strokes and swings and plotted and planned how we could build them ourselves. When we saw our neighbor mixing concrete in a wheelbarrow, we had a plan and were ready to set it in motion. When you’re ten years old, you don’t know what you don’t know, and anything seems possible.
In 1988, as a newlywed and young mom, I thought if we had a playroom—at our house—it would be heaven. No more tripping over toys at every step. When entertaining, the messy room could be hidden behind a closed door. The problem was, I couldn’t get anything done! Every time I heard a crash or a cry, I dropped whatever I was doing to run and investigate. As it turned out, it was better to have the kids playing in plain sight.
In 1998, I thought if I had a spa bathroom—at our house—it would be bliss. It was easy to imagine soaking in the huge tub with jacuzzi jets to massage my daily troubles away. At thirty years old, I did know a little more. I had spent hours watching HGTV and probably could have built it myself, but life has a way of altering your plans.
In 2008, our firstborn was graduating from college and announced he had no plans of moving back home. I gave some thought to transforming his room and having a home gym—at our house—it would be motivating. I thought if the weightroom were steps away rather than miles away, I would have no more excuses. I found about a million excuses not to build the home gym.
In 2018, our youngest was graduating from college. She also announced that she had no plans to move back home. Now there were two empty bedrooms—at our house—and I had no plans. However, it wasn’t due to any shortage of suggestions. I think I even bought a book titled something like, “What Empty Nesters Should do with the Empty Rooms in the House.”
I’m a fan of naming rooms … we already have a Hawaii room and an Africa room, both named more for the decorating style than for their functionality. We could have a sewing room—I used to love to sew. Or an art room—it would be easy to imagine an easel placed between the large windows where the bed used to be. Or a music room—one of my plans had been to learn to play the piano and dig out my violin from high school.
In 2028, I will be sixty years old. Ugh … that was a hard sentence to write. But on the bright side, it gives me four years to decide what to do with those empty rooms.
When my grandparents were sixty, I loved spending time at their house. At dinnertime, Grandma brought out the TV trays and created an instant dining room. If one of my uncles showed up, Grandma pulled out the sofa bed. And … voila! … there was a guestroom. She used to put out scads of art supplies on the coffee table and watched us create from the comfort of her Lazy Boy recliner as she stitched her needlepoint. Bing-Bang-Boom … she had created an art room and a sewing room in the blink of an eye.
Maybe that’s it! Grandma knew the secret. We don’t need a dining room, we don’t need a guest room, and we don’t need an art room or a sewing room. The only room lacking in our house is a den!
