to my daughter
May 18, 2015 § 2 Comments
It is no secret that I abhor clutter; I am notorious for fussing over forgotten items interrupting the surface of my contentment. It would seem impossible then that I occasionally seek respite from the quiet of my days in the unapologetic chaos of your corner of our home.
Today I found myself willfully stranded in the center of your room, laundry in hand, marveling at the accidental harmony of your distraction. A newly acquired tissue paper jelly fish dangling curling ribbon tentacles neatly segmented your room vertically as it twirled beside a construction paper snowflake hung from your antique chandelier; a half-inflated pool float contorted just inside your closet like a clumsy, bloated acrobat. Your bedding is still crumpled as if I might find remnants of last night’s dreams in the folds of your duvet and misshaped fragments of paper litter your night stand with evidence of sleepy origami efforts. Miniature toys converge around impromptu Lego scenes, patterning your floor with stories while your desk is accidentally structured in want of mischief, your pens and scissors loyal soldiers guarding a space for play.
Illogical and passionate, fearlessly unconventional, it is the place in our home where the colors sound like your laugh and the stubborn contempt for order feels allowed. Here your treasures and curiosities speak loudly of your thoughts and I find myself forgiving the noise in want of your company.
In this island of disorder time stands still and sweeps in messy circles; stealing me from structure in a landslide of memories.
Love, Mom
scribblechic 
“Illogical and passionate, fearlessly unconventional, it is the place in our home where the colors sound like your laugh and the stubborn contempt for order feels allowed.” Beautifully said! I wish my mother had subscribed to the same philosophy as I was growing up:).
Kay, many days I struggle against sorting her disorder. I chant mantras of simplicity into the den of chaos, hoping she will one day differentiate sentiment and need, value and distraction. For now, she’s still learning. On the days I most want to claim order, I shut her door and try to remember we all need a space for self – even in, perhaps especially in, the context of home.