Life, still

Closing up for the night and noticed this life unfolding on the table: playing cards angry dinosaurs paper swords plastic daggers nail polish advil and laughing Buddha. The essence of our household. Nothing is perfect, but everything is wonderful. 

I posted the above a week ago.  Remember that movie “Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead” when the kids run amuck and the whole house is a complete disaster?  Our place looked like that this week.  It kind of drove me crazy, but now I’m looking around and feeling like it’s all sort of beautiful.

The messes are tangible trails of what we did, how we lived: books left facedown and open, pingpong balls on the table, half-finished second grader science experiments, pillows clumped on one side of the sofa, bracelets stacked on the side table.  All these little scenes with a history of movement and function and feeling behind them.   Let’s do a photo prompt: take pictures of the messes you return to throughout the week.  Maybe we write about them from the perspective of these abandoned objects, or maybe it remains a photo essay.  Pay attention to all the crumbs you leave behind, and see if the messes reflect the life you mean to be living.  Might be time to take the fancy dishes out the cupboard, momma.

As always, I want to see what you’re making and writing and doing, so send it in my direction.  Looking inward requires more courage and effort than any other work in the world.  I admire you for it.