A little free writing~
The Room Where I Write
This just happens to be the central spot for our home, the
kitchen. During the day, it is
vacant of most activity, so the only thing I hear is the sound of a TV in the
background, but it’s quiet. The
granite counter is cool through my sweatshirt. The speckled browns and blacks
throughout the rock look like pointillism on a large scale, hues dotted and
blotched in randomness, hiding all the crumbs and drips, which can be seen if
one turns her face across the edge. The light reflecting hits ripples, which
just so happen to be breakfast remnants missed with a dirty sponge. Scattered across the surface are
papers, notes from lessons and half read books left out as a constant reminder
that they are waiting for me to give them much needed attention.
This is a well-used space. Evidence of its use are
everywhere. A honey bear’s drip
marks still streaked down the side where the last user left it nearly empty of
its contents, a plastic bag with two hard biscuits remain from Grandmom’s last
visit. A used up, hardened dish
towel drapes over the side of the sink, and a clean pot lays with its handle up
and over the side of the counter, beckoning someone to grab hold. The area has a smell of staleness,
foods once cooked and removed, but lingering on as a phantom of what was. The valance light has two globes, one
burned out. Overall, the room is
dark. Normal accent lights are
turned off to conserve energy, and with the burned out fixtures and the sunless
sky today, only a glow of light remains.
It feels gloomy and sleepy in here. Why did I pick this room? It’s like a reflection of me and I’m feeling the compulsion
to fix it!
Honey Bear: The
honey bear was purchased to avoid the useless spills made by my much larger
gallon jug of honey, which always had drips running down the sides and invited
ants to stop by for refreshing on a daily basis. Honey bear, I get the premise, that bears eat honey, but my
container looking like a bear with sweetness on the inside makes me wonder
about pet names, such as “honey bear,” “pooh bear,” “honey,” “sweetheart,”
etc. This little guy brings
delight for sure. He dribbles his
delightfulness over biscuits, in tea, and not too infrequently down the throats
of teenage boys who don’t care to wait to use it as a topping.
Counter/Desk:
My desk, for now, is the counter which has a million uses. It currently holds my empty coffee cup,
books, papers, candles, a cell phone, and a can of Korean tuna fish coupled
with a tube of some spicy/sweet paste.
I can’t read either of them but trust that the contents are safe for
consumption, since they came from
a mother halfway around the world to a child residing in my home, and he
relishes them with pleasure. Still
wondering if I should pick all this jumbled-ness up. Will it do me any good? Although I can sweep the clutter away, I doubt the outward
organization will change the jumbled up world inside me.
Books: There are three books on my space, no… there are four
if you count the journal I’m writing in to my daughter. She had planned to take it to college
but left if behind. I laugh as I
consider it. She had written the
words College Bound on it but spelled the word college wrong. She is incredibly creative but has no
thought for structure… or spelling.
She would have no trouble free writing with grammatical and spelling
errors! Inside it are some of my
most deep and personal thoughts and confessions. They are written as if we are sitting together sharing a cup
of tea and our heart. I’m hoping
that her heart will return to me one day.
Island light:
Oil rubbed bronze, hanging island chandelier light with Venetian scavo
glass pendants, that about sums up the light illuminating my work space. The fact that it’s covered in dust
either shows neglect due to the busyness of housing and feeding six boy-men, or
that we need to change the filter in our heating system. To my defense, the one globe literally
burned out today and I have not taken the time to see if there is a
replacement. But it’s presence
reminds me of a scripture. “For
now we see through a glass,
darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even
as also I am known.” The one-half
lit light reminds me that I don’t see things fully. I’m limited and so is my sight. One day, though, it will all become clear to me.
