The two-car garage was one of the perks of this house. Our previous garage was a single, so it’s been a luxury to park both cars—one a pickup—inside. There have been seasons when we didn’t park in the garage, like when our son used it for a weight room, but for the most part it has been a wonderful slice of storage. There are built-in cabinets, and we have a bookshelf in there, full to bursting. But my favorite storage place is the corner cabinet, just off the kitchen. My sentimental cabinet.
It’s tall, almost floor to ceiling, with three deep triangle-shaped shelves that come to a point in the back. I use it to store my extra dishes, fine china (never used) and Christmas china (often used). Each year around Thanksgiving I make the switch from a mixture of my white French Countryside and my grandmother’s Desert Rose to a hodgepodge of holiday settings. Some belonged to John’s grandmother, some to my mother, and most are gifts. Want to know what to buy me for Christmas? One cute Christmas bowl, please. Or a mug. Or a platter. None of it needs to match.
My sentimental cabinet also has my grandmother’s crystal punch bowl and glasses, which she was certain I’d use for a birthday party for my daughter, who was under 10 at the time. I have a porcelain candy dish hand-painted by John’s grandmother. Also a few things items that are only meaningful to me, like a mug from TV show “Community,” which was a gift from my son.
I could give our 11 years in this house a subtitle: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Garage. Because I didn’t always love it. I worried over it, worried in it. I always meant to paint it and never did, to do a cool floor covering and never did. It is this extra space that I fill imperfectly and still love.