Then I got to the story of her big oak bed.
When she was a baby, I managed to get out of the house one Saturday morning and walked through Riga’s Old Town which is just a few blocks from Valdemāra 77. It was kind of raining and I didn’t really have any destination in mind, but I found myself walking through a funny little passage I didn’t usually take, and I found a little antique shop, so I went in to get out of the weather and kill some time. This was a tiny place, but it was packed, and also there was a Latvian man running the shop. This was unusual because for some reason Russians seemed to be the primary proprietors of antique shops. The only reason this matters is because I couldn’t speak very well and in turn negotiate with the Russians (I spoke Latvian). So a very sweet old Latvian man was very happy to see me that drizzly Saturday morning and was anxious to offer coffee and let me squeeze through this shop. Honestly, it was more like a crammed closet than a shop, but I enjoyed talking to him and looking around trying to take it all in. It was full of big old wardrobes and dressers, and nothing was arranged—just piled and stacked. But then I saw something that caught my eye. It was oak with a very tight grain and a gorgeous patina, and it looked like little doors. So I asked my man what the heck this was and he told me a girl’s bed. OH!
For a little European-sized twin (slightly smaller than a standard US twin), it’s massive. The headboard is almost 5’ tall and footboard slightly shorter. They are constructed as in an Arts & Crafts fashion, except that they have delicate floral hand carvings at the top. If I had to date it, I would say this was built around 1920 when the Arts & Crafts movement met Art Nouveau. You can understand why I thought they were little doors. Then I asked my man how they worked and he showed me the two big rails that looked more like beams leaning on another wall. OH!
It was perfect. No damage, no stains, perfect. This bed was clearly made and taken care of with a lot of tenderness and purpose for a very special and very loved little girl. All I could think about was this little girl falling asleep feeling like a princess with her dad’s handiwork and protection cradling her sleep. This felt like a secret treasure and I had to rescue it for my girl. So I asked my man coyly how much. 50 USD he told me. OH!
I felt too guilty to even dicker with him. I ran home to get my car. I don’t even think I called my husband to tell him what I was doing. I had my keys on me, so I just took my car and zoomed back down to Old Town to try to park close to the shop. It used to be that there was no driving through Riga’s Old Town—you had to have a special permit or have diplomatic plates, so I had to park somewhere on the outskirts. I ran back to the shop(as if someone was really going to steal my treasure in the rain from that mess of a shop in the 10 minutes it took me to return), I plunked down my $50 and lugged this bed three blocks to my car. Four pieces took me four trips. It was kind of a ridiculous site really. The rails are at least 60 lbs. each and are about 6’ long, and the headboard I'm sure weighs more than me, but I carried ALL of it in the rain to my big old car.
When I got home, my husband was a little irritated that I went and bought even more furniture for our already filled flat especially since Sissy was still an infant. I think he was cursing under his breath as I enlisted his help in hauling all of this up two flights of stairs, and then we got it in. And he LOOKED at it. Then he looked at me and said, “Yeah, you needed to get this.”
So, Caroline, I believe your special bed was crafted especially for a little Latvian girl who's riches surrounded her. And I believe this bed was waiting in that crowded corner of the little old Latvian man’s antique shop just for me to resurrect it for you. There is lots of love that surrounds you as you sleep tight in your very own room.
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