My floor is clean.
Ok, it’s mostly clean. Leave me alone, I’ve got a lot going on.
Between working full time, writing, consulting, moming and wifing, sometimes I forget to sit down and be excited that I have life in my house.
My fridge is smothered with wedding announcements and appointment cards and my daughter’s toddler art. Somewhere beneath all that is a lovely stainless steel fridge we don’t bother to look at anymore.
My living room is a parking lot for my daughter’s toys, books scattered haphazardly on a shelf I got tired of sorting. I used to alphabetize my DVDs for fun when I lived alone.
I took the trash out tonight after it rained, and I breathed in the earthy smell of wet ground. I used to walk through the city, dreaming about that smell, hoping someday I’d find it again. Knowing I would.
My life is busy now. I’m always tired. I’m always pushing my limits, and when I get time to rest, I don’t know how. I am twelve places at once at all times, and I’m messy.
I am life, now.
Life isn’t neatly organized. It’s messy. So, so messy. It makes room for more mess, and the mess blends together into something vaguely cohesive-a story-and then before we know it, it’s done.
I’m tired because I’m living my life. I’m dreaming and hoping and working toward a goal every day, letting balls drop and picking them up again when I can.
Perhaps a little mess is good, every once in a while. Perhaps a little exhaustion isn’t such a bad thing, is it? After all, this moment, right now, you and I are life.
Are you living it, or have you forgotten to notice, like I so often do?
Shana Chartier, Author 