We all have a messy corner in our homes. The corner that collects all the mess, the jest, and the rest. For some, it’s the kitchen counter or a stool by the door. For others, it’s the bedside table or the coffee table. For me, I have a few of these corners, including a ten-by-ten corner on my work desk.
We swear that we will clean it next month, and we sometimes even get to it. But the stubborn corner returns in all its glory, not months after, but mere weeks or days after. This corner carries all our harried decisions and pent-up emotions. Our disappointments and our age-old grief. Our confidences and lack thereof.
Because we can’t get rid of it, we give it snorky glances at first. Then we stare at it hopelessly. Finally, we learn the art of avoidance: the best way to be in the short term. But the mess still bothers us. Avoidance was always a losing battle from the start. We think the mess means something about our house-nurturing capabilities. Something about our voids. Something about our core.
The secret to managing this corner is to finally accept it. Accept that every home, like every human, is designed to have this corner. Maybe we can even learn the flirty glance of love. Or learn to love it louder and sharper, even if others are displeased by that corner when they visit, especially if they are displeased, because we know that their home has that corner too.
And they will learn in time that there is a time for remediation, and there is a time for keeping the mess. As is. With a twinge of pride.
Our mess will also keep us from judging their mess, or at least swing us back down from our high horses when we are on the gallop of our lives, head held high and legs not quite touching the ground.
