The Room Where I Write

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.