I’ve been doing some cleaning and organizing of the home. Still looking at each item and asking if it supports the life I’m trying to create, mentioned in this post here.
Yesterday I tackled the top of the Armoire. There was a large tray sitting up there along with a few other things that needed to find their place, or go. I knew this tray would stay, but it hasn’t been used since my daughter moved out to be on her own. It was purchased decades ago to be used atop an ottoman which in translation means, it was just for looks. It’s handmade and I’m sure since it came from my previous married life, it cost a small fortune.
My daughter and I made a deal while packing up to leave my marriage. Every item we take is to be used. I recall taking that ottoman with us because it was also handmade and the top opened for the inside to be used for storage. The tray came along with the ottoman, but we didn’t use the tray very much until we moved here. We would watch a show, or movie sitting in the middle of my bed and the tray became a picnic platform for holding our meal.
We had many picnics from that tray and it adds value to our life, but it needed to be used.
I sat it in the middle of the massive wood table and added some of my favorite things. Things that are eye pleasing, but also used throughout my day. If this tray could talk it would tell you it was bought because it’s pretty. It’s been moved around a lot but it’s favorite part of life was picnics. Sitting here this morning it looks happy once again to be used.
She was pulling into a parking lot with a car in front of us. There was plenty of parking, but the car in front decided to park at the same time as my daughter. They pulled into a space side by side. The stranger’s passenger door flung open before either car was fully parked.
It was a child in a hurry to exit.
Her car door hit my daughter’s Jeep.
My daughter was angry, but not because the Jeep was hit. It was because the little girl was in a hurry. This could have been more than a scratch.
The little girls face showed remorse and terror as soon as it happened, but the mother was a different story all together. She was prepared with anger, but I diffused with kindness.
“I didn’t even see you”, she said.
Were we hidden from view?
She had a car full of girls. Life is distracting.
It was an accident, but “I’m sorry”, was left unsaid.
We have a large adhesive chalkboard on the pantry door. We use it to write down our schedules for one another. My daughter reached up to retrieve the box of chalk from above the pantry door, and it fell out of her hand crashing onto the tile floor. Tile is obviously more solid than chalk.
It was an accident. Pause Mama’s. Place a hold on your immediate reaction and wait for a response.
Some of our most magical moments began as a minor disaster.
Stepping over the mess, I walked into the bathroom. After washing my hands, I noticed one piece of chalk laying right inside the doorway. Squatting down, I grabbed the chalk, and wrote a note on the tile.
My daughter loved it and followed suit.
She wrote a note on the tile in the hallway.
My daughter could have cleaned up the mess before I returned home. She didn’t because she knew we would make something fun out of it, and was waiting to see my thoughts. When she moves on with her life, and has children of her own, I imagine her home with tile floors.
She will probably skip the chalk altogether, and allow her children to finger-paint the tile floor. She will teach them that an accident is really a beautiful mess in disguise.