Once there was an empty room that belonged to no one. Over the years, it was filled with clothes, boxes, pictures and books. The room did not serve any purpose except for storage and gathering dust. The shades were always closed and the lights rarely went on.
Eventually, the room had a purpose, that one day, it would belong to a child. Even though this purpose was known, the room had to wait. And so it sat, with boxes of pictures, a heavy wood desk, a closet full of clothes, and a floor layered in dust.
More and more, the shades were drawn and the lights popped on. The room was visited more often, hope lingering in the air that it would eventually serve its purpose. Months and months passed and the room sat, waiting to be filled with more meaning.
One day, the closet was emptied. The dusty furniture was moved out. The floor was swept and scrubbed. The walls were painted bright.
In came a dresser that was polished and cleaned. Next came a rocking chair and a white solid crib. Bookshelves were nailed to the walls and little antique airplanes brought color to the space. A map was framed and hung up for display. A blue and white rug was laid on the floor. Slowly, this room began to become its own.
Each night, the light was turned on and she looked into the room. Sometimes she would sit on the rocking chair and just dream, imagining what life would fill this space. Two little dogs would play on the rug, not knowing how significantly their lives would change in the coming months.
He played lullabies on a guitar and beautiful music encompassed the space. He would dream about his unborn son and who he would become.
What once was an empty room was now a hopeful place.