Home of the Brave — Pamela Ackerson

A slight breeze moved the French lace curtains as Karen leaned against the verandah doorframe. She watched the men struggle with the awkward and heavy feather mattress she had re-upholstered. The ornate bed was large and high off the carpeted floor. She had fallen in love with it the moment she and Bonnie had seen it at the estate sale. The antique maple bed and steps matched her furnishings in the room to perfection. This room for some particular reason was the only one in her home furnished with antiques, right down to her eagle photographs in ornately carved frames. Normally, Karen was comfortable with anything and everything modern. It wasn't until the past year that she'd started replacing her bedroom furniture with antiques. After the men left, she spent the afternoon organizing and moving the rest of her bedroom. Nodding her head in agree-ment with herself, she looked about the room with a critical eye. It was almost as if the bed was the last piece of the puzzle. Its headboard was strategically placed against the wall with the two windows from floor to ceiling on each side. The bed faced the verandah, the armoire to the right of the bed, the bureau and matching vanity to its left. Karen smiled. The room looked comfortable and inviting.