The Album Cupboard

It was my youngest son’s idea.
He was down the basement.
He and his wife came home because he was getting the rest of his things.
They just moved into their first house and now they have more room.

He came to get his bed and chest of drawers for one of their extra bedrooms.
He came to get his first drum set.
He came to get some clothes that were still in his closet.
He came to get his books and his bookshelf.

They are his things.
They need to be with him.
There is something about an empty room, however.
There is something about the memories that linger.

A small truck was rented.
Many hands lightened the load.
The only things that are left in his closet are some favorite toys.
They will be used again for his own children someday, as God allows.

Woody is still here with his trusted friend, Buzz.
Rumple Bear is still here, which my son slept with when he was a little boy.
An old football that has seen better days is still on the shelf.
There is a bin that contains pencils of various sport teams and an orthodontic apparatus.

It all went on the truck.
It all belongs to him.
He and his wife will sort through the books and the miscellaneous things.
It will go to their house, their four walls, and through their front door.

It was when my son was in the basement that he saw them.
Mom, you have a great album collection, he said sharing my love of music.
You should put them out somewhere, not store them away in that bin, he suggested.
Didn’t Dad buy you that record player years ago? He asked remembering correctly.

Where do you propose I put my albums? I asked him, liking his suggestion.
You can get some kind of cabinet or something, he said.
They just should be out somewhere and not put away, he said again.
I liked his idea more and more.

I decided that I would go to my places.
Places that sell antiques.
Places that sell used furniture.
Places that have all the country touches that I like so much.

It took me a few days to go to all my favorite shops.
I was certain that I would know the piece when I saw it.
A country cupboard or a pie safe was what I had in mind.
Nothing I saw in any of my places fit what I saw in my imagination.

I decided that I would drive a bit further and go to a large used furniture store.
This store in a charming little town is filled with furniture from estate sales.
The inventory is always changing.
The store is always busy.

This store even delivers, which is usually unheard of when dealing with used furniture.
Most people bring a truck or minivan to carry their pieces home with them if they are able.
I walked inside.
I never know where to look first.

If you do not go to this store with something in mind, you will get distracted.
You have to be focused to look for only the item you came to find.
Everything is set up nicely.
There is quite a lot to see.

I saw pianos, armoires, bedroom sets, and dining room sets.
I saw cupboards, hutches, sideboards, and servers that flipped open to extend even longer.
Nothing hit my eye.
Nothing was like the album cupboard I pictured in my mind.

I wanted to ask about one particular piece that I thought could possibly work.
When you see something you like, you are supposed to grab the price tag.
If you do not grab the price tag and you walk away, the item is usually sold within minutes.
One piece I saw with a price tag was sold in the seven minutes it took to ask my question.

That is the way it is in this place.
Items move very quickly.
Everyone had their phones out.
They were taking pictures or calling someone about a certain piece of furniture.

The man who answered my question asked if I had been to their other building.
I never knew the building next store belonged to them.
He directed me.
He was certain that I might find something over there.

As soon as I went in, I saw a little country cupboard with a primitive latch.
It was very cute, but it would not be deep enough for record albums.
I looked around and thought that this shopping trip would not be fruitful.
Tucked away, behind another piece, was the perfect album cupboard.

It was oak and had a wonderful design cut out at the top.
It had a shelf, which meant that two areas could hold my albums.
It had two little cabinet doors at the bottom.
There was even a hole in the back to accommodate the plug for my vintage record player.

I could not have designed it better myself.
I looked at the price tag.
It said, $30.
I thought I read it wrong.

I pulled off the tag and went back outside and into the main building.
I saw the same man that directed me there in the first place.
I assume you’re taking it with you, he said as I handed him the price tag.
I will get someone to load it into the car for you, he said.

I paid the $30 at the front desk.
I drove my minivan to the other building.
I reversed to make it easier for the young man to put it in my minivan.
When I got there, the young man already had the solid oak piece on the dolly.

He put it in the back of my car with ease.
I heard you tell the man what you wanted to use this for, the young man said smiling.
That’s really cool; this will be perfect for albums, he said.
Vinyl sounds really good, the young man said as he closed the back of my car.

My husband used a dolly to bring my album cupboard inside.
I knew just where it would go.
My husband and I went down the basement and carried my old albums upstairs.
I placed the albums on the shelves according to artists.

I remember buying each album.
I remember listening to one side and then getting up to turn the record over.
I remember how carefully I handled each one so as not to scratch it.
All that care paid off; the albums are still in great condition.

My heart, O God, is steadfast, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music. (Psalm 57:7)

I picked a favorite album; I turned on my vintage record player.
I took a video with my phone and sent it to my son saying, This was YOUR idea!
Vinyl sounds really good, the young man said and he was right.
There is something about listening to a record album.

I opened a time machine.
Each album has a distinct memory for me.
Mom, you have a great album collection, my son told me.
As far as memories go, he may be right.