Last summer, I made a deal with my good friend to fix up her house in exchange for lower rent and a project that would keep me busy and distracted from my own life...The house needs work...lots of it...mostly cosmetic...but it needs some definite elbow grease. I've been chipping away at things since November and I have my list of projects...prioritized...of course, because I'm a bit OCD about completing "missions." I tend to scrape off the top of whatever I'm working on and look at what is underneath before I line up my paint cans and scrub brushes.
Of all the rooms that I have avoided...it is the kitchen, my usual favorite room, that I have left untouched....I trip over things...refuse to walk barefoot and look at the same crooked window every day with the same corpse of a wasp hanging there. I love food and have resorted to eating baked beans and sausage microwaved. I've used all of my plastic utensils and run out of paper plates....And...although I love to cook...I have created no dishes or baked any breads...only preheated hot dogs and eaten yogurt with granola. Even my nine pound bag of oatmeal is gone. I have been avoiding the one room that always gives me great pleasure and I don't know why....
Last night after two cups of coffee and a glass of wine (there is no meaning behind the mixture...I think it was all I could reach)....I tried to close the pantry door and it stuck for the millionth time. In my anger and frustration...I reached down...grabbed the edge of the linoleum and pulled...no yanked...and fell backwards as the old tiles peeled away from the floor like paper.
I knew that I would be sorry I had acted in anger and that stripping the worn...tired top layer would only reveal more damage. Instead....there it was...this beautiful floor...not breathtaking...but untouched by all of the dirt...grime...scuffs....cuts and abuse of those who had come before me....before my friend....It was almost as if what lie hidden was just waiting for me...for anyone to let the sun in and let it breath.
Of course...I couldn't just let the newly exposed floor just lie there...suddenly the walls needed the same freshness. The counters needed bleaching and the crooked window needed to be straightened...allowed to sit dignified again with the wasp corpse put to rest. And...if I just wiped the window clean and maybe put some plants in the sill and scrubbed the sinks. And...after all...the window did deserve curtains to freshen up the room.
I doubt anyone walking into the room today would burst into tears for the beauty of it...but it was a kitchen again...dressed up, recognizable...ready to be used for the purpose it was meant for....a multitude of possibilities lie before it and soon someone will live in this house and love this room for all the right reasons...because it will be ready.
Much like me...once I uncover all that has been buried for all of these years....I will be ready again, once I release... what lies beneath....
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