As the summer days roll in to August, I sometimes wonder where the prior months of summer went. Hours of the days escape me, and I am left wondering how I can possibly squeeze more out of these frantic passing moments.
Life seems to accumulate quickly: the bills add up; the work day comes sooner each morning; plans change unexpectedly, thus leaving someone, at any given time disappointed in me; the kitchen sink is filled with an assortment of pretty dishes and my bed is piled high with books- none of which seem to grasp my attention; the oil in my car is running low and my cat's litter box is flooded with tiny poop gnomes. On and on it goes...
I suppose I should be more grateful, er...gracious.
Grateful that I have a dishwasher, and more accepting of my total lack of interest in emptying it, so that I might place the lovely dishes in that fine piece of machinery. And grateful that the days at work are wild- because it means I have a job. I'm even grateful for the smelly poop gnomes- they are indicative of a healthy cat who likes to eat a lot...and his human, me, just too lazy to send such gnomes to their rightful resting place.
And grateful that the weekends rush past me- because it means that my life exists somewhere out there with people. And a great boyfriend. Living.
In the end, the "chaos," is organized and often sweet. I am not so good at seeing individual trees, but rather fabulous in my ability to see the entire freakin' forest. That's fantastic for many reasons: it means I am responsible, for the most part. I push myself for perfection and fight for the "whole," picture.
However, seeing that plethora of forestry from afar means I lose sight of the smaller, more delicate details beneath the mass- a polar opposite of my "self," as a small girl. Being a grown up has its drawbacks- I miss the faeries in the forest, you know...the ones you used to poor tea for, in hopes that your belief might spawn just the flit of a glimpse. Using Mom's finest, most intricately designed china cups, which of course I stole, (sorry Mom, it's true- I did that), pink tu-tu intact, I sat waiting, believing and praying that I was special enough to see just one tiny fairy.
I never saw one, but in my attempt to reach back, for simpler things and a simpler schedule, I know now why.
Chaos...
Gotta slow down. Faeries like peace, so I hear, and welcome those still naive enough to believe in magic. Welcome those who are not bound by their checkbook, or the dirty dishes still in the sink. Like they say, "There's more to life than a clean house."
I still believe in a little bit of magic, and know that some of us, and places, remain enchanted. No amount of chaos will keep me from that small pleasure.
