on top of the fridge, a reflection
On top of the fridge, where items go to die, are the things we collect and the other things we collect. Small boxes for gadgets that prove we are living in the future. Small boxes that prove we live extravagant lives.
One for the handheld milk frother for homemade lattes. The instructions are inside and have never been read. The frothing of milk is second nature if you speak coffee. Simply submerge into warm milk and push the button to achieve frothy, creamy, milk perfection. But, you've recently quit drinking cow's milk and have not perfected the art of a replacement. The frother sits with your coffee makers, yes, plural makers and the box, which you will never need waits for nothing.
A box for the Bluetooth speaker you never thought you needed, but your husband knew. Inside you find all kinds of plastics for unwrapped cords and an inflatable tube for the lazy, day-long pool parties every mother in their 30's frequently has. It's more likely you'll find my speaker hanging on the chalkboard in the dining room, that is the school room or suspended from the cabinet in the kitchen, because dirty dishes happen everyday. The last time I had a perfectly lazy, lounging day by the pool was approximately June 2016, for a weekend in Dallas with the best of friends, with no children in sight. Someone else had a speaker and it didn't need to float in the pool.
There is one box for yet, one more Bluetooth device that plugs into the lighter in the minivan.When left unattended, the children decided the CD player was a good penny bank and now the screen reads ERROR down every major and minor road. If your children happen to come the same conclusion, and you're eagerly racing away from a landlocked place to the glorious coast of all things beautiful, this contraption is far cheaper than a replacement stereo and the truth of the matter is our streaming, connected world.
A table-top Foosball game brought home from a Christmas party gift exchange that was fun and could still be fun, but really, where does a thing like that go? Perhaps it goes in the non-existent game room that cannot be found in this little rectangle house that looks just like the house next door and the one next door and the one next door.
An insulated lunch box that you acquired on moving day, when your dear friend brought iced coffee to fuel bodies and souls, and in the commotion, it came to your new home. Another lunchbox, original unknown, reason unknown, never used, where is your home? In addition, the three lunchboxes that are used and cleaned, once a week. Angry Birds, Disney Princesses, and the cute little hedgehog for child that wasn't old enough to absolutely need the lunchbox of their choice and thus, you saved five dollars, because the cute hedgehog comes with no exorbitant licensing cost.
And the following...One work glove with holes which no longer helps the work. One plastic black glove that was purchased for dying hair, but no one (by no one, I mean, me) looked at the size and so I only squished my medium sized hand into the extra small glove once, before apparently putting it on top of the fridge. Three broken pens banished to purgatory, until today. Two colored pencils hoping to be reunited with their kind. Three broken crayons that will not be given new life and melted into something new. Some aged candy that was collected from the children, the ones that were picked last for the game and as of now, put out of their misery or rather landfill bound.
And all of that is just what we collected without intention, items without meaning that exist and stay, gathering dusting and watching us live our lives. Until one Wednesday morning during Christmas break when the espresso is bubbling on the stove and for the first time you see the top of the fridge and wonder, when did that happen?
It happened when you were planning a trip and clearing the table for dinner and tidying the mess from dinner and trips and days and holidays and coffee multiple times a day.
The speaker box lived on top of the fridge for six months. The frother box lived out an entire year, a gift from last Christmas. The van Bluetooth contraption box arrived in September and happily supplied the soundtrack that carried us through hours of mountains and rivers and trees and at last, to the water. I do not know when that one lunchbox arrived, has it always been here? Life is such a mystery.
Yet, somewhere in the collection that means nothing, you find tiny, beautiful pieces of life. The giant red, felt heart that a daddy-adoring six year old made on Valentine's day. It's so large that it really has no place to go, which is a lot like love itself, I suppose. A photo of a radiant sunset one night in Oregon, when we drank wine from mugs and the children climbed driftwood wonderlands. A moment that speaks of hours of work and planning and preparing to take your most beloved ones on a journey to get to the edge of the land, to greet the sea. It was worth every second and it still continues to steal your breathe and renew your soul.
Finally, you come to the momentary masterpieces that reproduce like rabbits or rather, three budding artists. Abstract works from the three year old that are similar to what those successful artists are selling these days, sigh. There is one of a little girl in the woods surrounded, absolutely surrounded by birds. It's almost frightening, but mostly dazzling. So many flowers and hearts and forest scenes filled with smiling little girls, what a beautiful world it must be in her head. Keep creating beauty, my darlings. I'll save most of your drawings, but we can't all be hoarders.
There's a card written to the friend to remind them that they are lovely and strong, but it was never sent. So, dear friend, I hope you are well. I just want you to know that you are lovely and strong and so deeply loved. Carry on.
On top of the fridge, where items go to die, are the things we collect and the other things we collect. We venture into purgatory and give notice to moments worth saving and clear away the unnecessary. Life keeping on giving, love keeps on filling, and we make space for more.
One for the handheld milk frother for homemade lattes. The instructions are inside and have never been read. The frothing of milk is second nature if you speak coffee. Simply submerge into warm milk and push the button to achieve frothy, creamy, milk perfection. But, you've recently quit drinking cow's milk and have not perfected the art of a replacement. The frother sits with your coffee makers, yes, plural makers and the box, which you will never need waits for nothing.
A box for the Bluetooth speaker you never thought you needed, but your husband knew. Inside you find all kinds of plastics for unwrapped cords and an inflatable tube for the lazy, day-long pool parties every mother in their 30's frequently has. It's more likely you'll find my speaker hanging on the chalkboard in the dining room, that is the school room or suspended from the cabinet in the kitchen, because dirty dishes happen everyday. The last time I had a perfectly lazy, lounging day by the pool was approximately June 2016, for a weekend in Dallas with the best of friends, with no children in sight. Someone else had a speaker and it didn't need to float in the pool.
There is one box for yet, one more Bluetooth device that plugs into the lighter in the minivan.When left unattended, the children decided the CD player was a good penny bank and now the screen reads ERROR down every major and minor road. If your children happen to come the same conclusion, and you're eagerly racing away from a landlocked place to the glorious coast of all things beautiful, this contraption is far cheaper than a replacement stereo and the truth of the matter is our streaming, connected world.
A table-top Foosball game brought home from a Christmas party gift exchange that was fun and could still be fun, but really, where does a thing like that go? Perhaps it goes in the non-existent game room that cannot be found in this little rectangle house that looks just like the house next door and the one next door and the one next door.
An insulated lunch box that you acquired on moving day, when your dear friend brought iced coffee to fuel bodies and souls, and in the commotion, it came to your new home. Another lunchbox, original unknown, reason unknown, never used, where is your home? In addition, the three lunchboxes that are used and cleaned, once a week. Angry Birds, Disney Princesses, and the cute little hedgehog for child that wasn't old enough to absolutely need the lunchbox of their choice and thus, you saved five dollars, because the cute hedgehog comes with no exorbitant licensing cost.
And the following...One work glove with holes which no longer helps the work. One plastic black glove that was purchased for dying hair, but no one (by no one, I mean, me) looked at the size and so I only squished my medium sized hand into the extra small glove once, before apparently putting it on top of the fridge. Three broken pens banished to purgatory, until today. Two colored pencils hoping to be reunited with their kind. Three broken crayons that will not be given new life and melted into something new. Some aged candy that was collected from the children, the ones that were picked last for the game and as of now, put out of their misery or rather landfill bound.
And all of that is just what we collected without intention, items without meaning that exist and stay, gathering dusting and watching us live our lives. Until one Wednesday morning during Christmas break when the espresso is bubbling on the stove and for the first time you see the top of the fridge and wonder, when did that happen?
It happened when you were planning a trip and clearing the table for dinner and tidying the mess from dinner and trips and days and holidays and coffee multiple times a day.
The speaker box lived on top of the fridge for six months. The frother box lived out an entire year, a gift from last Christmas. The van Bluetooth contraption box arrived in September and happily supplied the soundtrack that carried us through hours of mountains and rivers and trees and at last, to the water. I do not know when that one lunchbox arrived, has it always been here? Life is such a mystery.
Yet, somewhere in the collection that means nothing, you find tiny, beautiful pieces of life. The giant red, felt heart that a daddy-adoring six year old made on Valentine's day. It's so large that it really has no place to go, which is a lot like love itself, I suppose. A photo of a radiant sunset one night in Oregon, when we drank wine from mugs and the children climbed driftwood wonderlands. A moment that speaks of hours of work and planning and preparing to take your most beloved ones on a journey to get to the edge of the land, to greet the sea. It was worth every second and it still continues to steal your breathe and renew your soul.
Finally, you come to the momentary masterpieces that reproduce like rabbits or rather, three budding artists. Abstract works from the three year old that are similar to what those successful artists are selling these days, sigh. There is one of a little girl in the woods surrounded, absolutely surrounded by birds. It's almost frightening, but mostly dazzling. So many flowers and hearts and forest scenes filled with smiling little girls, what a beautiful world it must be in her head. Keep creating beauty, my darlings. I'll save most of your drawings, but we can't all be hoarders.
There's a card written to the friend to remind them that they are lovely and strong, but it was never sent. So, dear friend, I hope you are well. I just want you to know that you are lovely and strong and so deeply loved. Carry on.
On top of the fridge, where items go to die, are the things we collect and the other things we collect. We venture into purgatory and give notice to moments worth saving and clear away the unnecessary. Life keeping on giving, love keeps on filling, and we make space for more.
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