Six Simple Drawers

Between the two of us, we’ve accumulated a house—plus a large attic—FULL of furniture, accessories, “stuff.” Some pieces inherited from our parents or grandparents. Some landed in place when our two families blended into one. And others I proudly saved up for and chose myself, in my quest for a cute and cozy home.

So whenever one of our kids has moved into a first apartment or bought a house, we’d always make the offer, “Need a dresser? A table? Some chairs?”

The answer tends to be a gracious, “No thanks. We’re good.”

Understood. Nobody wants our stuff.

They prefer furniture that arrives on its own terms—new, clean, simple, affordable, and easy.

But then…

…Caroline asked if we happened to have a white dresser.

She and Denton are settling into their beautiful brick Belmont home, joyfully preparing for baby Nellie’s arrival this November.

I didn’t think long.

“What about the one in Molly’s room?”

The room has been strangely quiet lately since my Molly moved into her own place. The wicker drawers that faithfully held two dozen years of duds sat unopened.

Not long before we brought our September Girl home from the hospital, I purchased that dresser.

It has spent its entire life outfitting her as she grew up.

Tiny pink sleepers and little white tights gave way to Old Navy dresses and swim team Speedos. Then came soccer jerseys, a tutu or two, the field hockey phase, tucked aside carefully folded college tees, a rainbow of Lululemon leggings, and finally, the wardrobe of a beautiful young independent woman.

Every morning for nearly twenty-five years, Molly stood before those six simple drawers, choosing who she would be that day.

It might not have a voice. But it quietly holds space for all the ordinary.

When I suggested the dresser, Caroline said, “Perfect.”

And my overflowing heart replied, “Perfect.”

She didn’t have to say yes.

She could have shopped Facebook Marketplace, or ordered something brand-new— either with the simple click of a button.

Instead...she chose something that had already been loved.

Soon those drawers will hold tiny sleepers instead of sweats.

Hair bows instead of hoodies.

Burp cloths instead of bikinis.

And maybe one day, a little girl will stand in front of that very same dresser with her mama, deciding what to wear to kindergarten, eventually tucking secret treasures in the back of the bottom left drawer, and years later, leaning against it while flat-ironing her own brown hair before school.

I grew up in a town known for solid furniture, craftsmanship, pieces made to last. But life has taught me something High Point never could. Furniture might be made in factories, but heirlooms are built at home.

Perhaps our kiddos just wanted a place for their own stories to begin.

And somehow, with that…

…six simple drawers became enough.