The closest thing I wanted to a bridal veil as a child was a mosquito net. I’d picture the gauzy breezes of a four poster bed. Windows wide open with me sitting in the center of things, book in hand and surrounded by a gentle cloud of white. Or better yet, a circular arrangement on the floor, soft and cushioned, bright exotic pillows (but still with book in hand).
So when I moved into this flat in December I was happy to see a net had been used in the past. In its winter state it was drawn up and a tad grey from the dust of disuse. Recently I rearranged my bedroom, so the bed is in the center and away from the cold walls. Now, after several sleepless nights with the shrill buzzing of unfriendlies wanting my blood, I have decided it is time for that childhood fantasy to become a reality.
Washing it in the tub, I was able to revisit a few stranded night invaders from years past. The dust was more of a grime and it still isn’t exactly a brilliant white, but better, sure. And trying to reconstruct it to its frame is going to be tricky. My friend Ginger, long gone now, would say about the impossible that it was like “nailing jello to a tree”. Yep. I’m no Arachne and handling the thin material is not likely to yield a lovely web. Maybe.
The whole experience has made me wonder about our wishes. How knowledge at times interferes with an imaginative mind. We’ll see, once it’s constructed and hung, maybe it will be everything I dreamed about.