editor’s note
A few years ago, my mother inherited an antique walnut sideboard from a relative. It was an exquisite piece of furniture, with a curved front and beautiful detailing. My mother was grateful, but also a little uncertain of what to do with it. Her cottage-style home was filled with light furnishings and fabrics, white painted furniture, and soft patterns. An ornate piece of furniture surely wouldn’t fit in. But then the sideboard arrived, wrapped in layers of plastic—and memories. My mom positioned it in a glorified spot in her dining room so guests could see it the minute they walked in. Its rich finish stood in stark contrast to the bright and airy space that surrounded it—a stranger in a room full of familiar things. And yet, it was perfect. My mom…
