When one walks into our home, one could guess that we just moved in and lived in perpetual scattered messes. Well, it is not as bad as all that, but I look at it with dismayed eyes. We are messy, in a community where it seems that other people live organized lives.
Oddly enough, my house was very tidy when my children were little. Maybe it was that a toddler or crawler was wandering around, or that I was a stay-at home mom. But things morphed when they grew to be teenagers who left a trails or heaps of stuff. Then they moved out. (see below what they became as adults)
Now all the messes around are our own.
We both are eclectic people with our own talents and interests.
He is all math and science, a huge bridge fanatic. Around his recliner, one will find books on bridge, astronomy, science fiction, and investing.
I am all color and art, with writing as my joy. Around my chair, there is
no mess. But on the table, my computer is surrounded by printouts, post-its, rough drafts being edited, and photos.
When one combines those two, there is and will always be a mess.
So if and when someone visits, we will close doors to our "creative" rooms, hoping that visitors will focus on art around and on the walls. Will go "ahhhh" at quilts commanding parts of their own walls. Will smile at our collection of family photos. Will nod with appreciation at my laptop on the dining table, knowing that I am a writer, one who writes everyday.
Being as we are, I believe our messes will be understood and maybe even admired.
Well, not admired, but at least understood.
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| A quilt for my daughter |
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| My sister made this for me. She is so precious. |
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| Anatole Krasnyansky |
Are we alone in this? Do you have a flare of your own, resulting in a mess? Oh, please say yes.
