The Vision Board
#Wickerwork #furniture, and a thousand results popped out on Google. She gazed longingly at the light-coloured, eco-friendly, artsy, handcrafted furniture. A stunning headboard against a peach wall. Her bedroom would reflect the sun rising over the forest, glimmery and chirpy. She imagined herself sliding between the softest flowery cotton bedsheets on the queen-sized bed, head resting on scented silk pillow covers. Silk supposedly retains the softness of the hair; she didn’t like her dry and brittle hair that the old fan dried even more. She wanted to wake up like a queen, not a scarecrow.
She had spent 54 summers on the planet. But she couldn’t recall even one morning when she had woken up in her very own beautifully decorated room, floating in heaven to welcome another sunrise. Though, in the course of her work, she had covered many design houses.
Her nights were filled with dreams of creating her own space, her identity. In her head were flowy muslin curtains, French doors opening to a green garden, flowery balconies, fragrant creepers, aroma-infused air-conditioned room, marble flooring, classy glass lights, freshly painted walls, walk-in closet and a luxurious bathroom.
She hummed softly, lips curled in a tiny smile, cutting the photographs. Her vision board was far from done. She had downloaded innumerable photographs from social media, enticed by the gorgeous décor, uncaring of the price points. Dreams and money don’t gel. Her dreams were big, her bank balance nil.
A bedside table with a small lamp for reading. An old alarm clock by the bedside, a tray with creams, perfumes and lotions. No digital radiations in this room. A table for the phone would be close to the door, near the closet.
The door-bell rang. The part-time helper was here. She picked up her walking shoes, gathered the bits of hair curled up in the corner, looked painfully at the stained walls with paint peeling off. Dust had become a permanent resident in certain crevices. The old wooden floor was full of holes and scratches. The fan required multiple rounds of cleaning.
The room belonged to her only when her sibling went to work. She needed to sleep by 8 pm to get up at 4 am, but they never slept before 10 pm. She didn’t like the one bright light in the room, the sound of reels when she wanted to meditate or loud talks on the phone.
She dusted and cleaned the room, the bathroom, even the door mat. The only closet in the room didn’t belong to her. Work had dried up many summers ago. This was a rented apartment and sharing space was a financial necessity.
Nourished souls had more fulfilling relationships. For her, the 4S of self-care were solace, silence, solitude, space, and the teacher had nodded.
She couldn’t isolate a single emotion, but she knew that they both needed to express their own space in their own ways. The masterclass on vision boards was all about manifestation, bringing the invisible into the visible.