Sometime soon I’ll have to give up my home office room and desk where I conduct most of my work, as we prepare that room for our first born child to occupy that space.

The desk currently doesn’t have much on it: a flatbed scanner, some CD spindles, and an old MacBook connected to a larger display.

I’ve had this desk for many years, on which I wrote countless blog posts, crafted software applications, learned to play certain songs on guitar, and felt mostly at my intellectual best.

It’s where I sipped coffee and powered through some enjoyable task that made some part of my life easier.

It’s where I thoughtfully gazed out the window right next to it, deep in some long lost yearning of a person, place, or time.

It’s where I appreciated music or cinema, transfixed by the nuances of the songs or screenplay.

You see, the desk is not defined by what it has on it, but what it provides from a thought-process and introspection level: the ability to think clearly, form logical conclusions, and truly be absorbed in something.

My desk (and the accompanying room surrounding it) is an oasis of peace and harmony – a place where even the most difficult problems can start to make sense and dissolve.

So giving up the desk is not as easy as it sounds. I’m not only giving up the physical space that housed the desk, but the mental clarity that the space + desk provided.

Maybe it can be moved to another room, or stashed for another time and place (when we get a bigger house), so I guess it’s more of a “coming of age” thing than anything.

As I near closer to the birth of our first child, I try to remember what matters more, and I don’t have to think long to come to an answer.