Tucked neatly into the deepest corner of my home, next to a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the intersection below, there is a little brown desk that’s all mine.

To you, perhaps it doesn’t look like much: an antique armchair, a floor lamp, a decorative box, photo frame and a cup full of pens and one random mascara I forgot I owned. It’s a simple thing, really, a little writing desk in the corner but it’s a simple thing I’ve craved for so long.

Most parents will tell you that parenthood brings with it a great challenge in making a space yours. While I’ve implemented some tough rules like “no toys in Mama’s bathroom”, the reality of living in an apartment is that our common space (and sometimes my bed) are a play zone for my F.

As a writer and a working mom, having a space to work and create and – I’ll say it – just relax is tough. Finding a space for all of those things that isn’t my bed is even harder. After a few years of wanting and searching for the perfect desk, my rockstar parents found it on a buy and sell page near their home. After almost a month of it sitting quite in the way, covered with toys and a blanket I decided to set it up. I wasn’t expecting to feel so strangely drawn to my little space, but I am.

I could see it from the kitchen this morning at 6 am as I made my first cup of coffee and contemplated how my day spent working from home would shape up. With a school cancelation and a storm on the way, I pondered what to do if the power went out and whether or not we should go buy #stormchips before the snow starts. By 6:05 am, I was sitting in a dark and totally silent apartment drinking hot coffee by the light of my single lamp in the deepest corner of my little home.

There is something to be said for a space that’s all yours. It’s neither big nor fancy, but it’s mine and there is something wonderful and awesome about that little fact.