I’ve seen lamps like this growing up. I think my grandmother may have had one in her basement. She had a weird, spooky basement that had shelves and books and a round table in the room. I used to read Nancy Drew down there. Maybe that’s why I remember it as spooky.
Other than that flash, I hadn’t remembered which family member had the green glass lamp, but I hated them. I don’t even know why I hated them.
And then I forgot about them.
Last year, we were staying with my mother-in-law over the Thanksgiving holiday and I noticed this lamp in the bedroom where we were sleeping.
I wanted it!
It’s not a bedroom lamp; it’s a desk lamp.
It’s like the lamp on the desk of a great detective or private eye, two of my dream jobs as a child. It reminds me of the table lamps in the bunker on Supernatural, and I was immediately drawn to it.
My mother-in-law gave it to me and it’s been a centerpiece of my office ever since. It makes me feel like a real writer. I try to surround myself in my writing space with things that inspire me, and this lamp has definitely fit the bill.
It’s a writer’s lamp!
I kind of love that as a young person I hated this type of lamp because I think it can stand as a symbol of life’s changes. It shows how far I’ve come. It’s not just growing up; it’s growing out.