in the foreground: a new rug. part modern, part midcentury. my new look. part of my turning over a new decorating/style leaf thing. the background: the story of my life--never-ending piles of laundry, symbolic of my to-do lists, dishes to unload from the dishwasher, “toys” (more accurately described as crap my kids hoard) to clean out of rooms before they overtake us, layers of dust on furniture (note the plural “layers”).
the foreground is an indicator of the background. i am drawn to changing things that are easy to change: sell the furniture! get new stuff! (less easily accomplished without sufficient income but still doable with multiple yard sales and by bombarding craig’s list) rearrange the bedrooms (for the 20th time in 5 years)! clean out the closet! scrub the toilets! vacuum the constant piles of crumbs around the table! (ok i do that one way less than i should…and notice i didn’t mention dusting the layers off the furniture)
the background is a representation of what the inside of my soul looks like: piles of laundry that keep reappearing the minute i put the other ones away. or maybe they are the same piles, and i just keep thinking i have put them away once and for all, only to discover minutes later that i shoved them behind a pillow because company was coming. (not that i’ve ever done that or anything…)
this clutter, it’s hard to see through. it’s so much easier for me to focus on the superficial things. to help me feel like i’m accomplishing something. to help me feel like i actually have control over my life. but who has control over her life? it’s such a façade. there is almost nothing i can control.
and the days i remember that are the best days: when i realize i can’t control my kids’ personalities but only can work with them and try to be understanding even when i don’t understand where they are coming from; when i remind myself that i can’t control the economy, only my motivation (helped tremendously by caffeine) to get my work done.
the real story, the real beauty, though, might be in the sun streaming across the room, the fresh air pouring through the windows. drawing my attention outward, upward, to something bigger than myself.