I remember the day I finally decided our master bedroom deserved more than the mismatched sheets and hand-me-down nightstand. I’m a forty-something American mom, proud of my roots and the way my southern mother taught me to make a house feel like home. With an energetic son and thoughtful daughter between eight and twelve, quiet moments are precious. My husband and I dreamed of a calming retreat where we could read while the kids built forts in the den. My parents still bring over grandma’s quilts, and my sister drops by with thrift store finds. In this cozy space I…