making room
I am making room.
It’s sort of a strange process, this making room stuff. I am not exactly making anything, truly; I am emptying space. I’m calling it spring cleaning, even though it’s still winter.
(Granted, in my valley between two mountains, the trees are blooming and spring is barreling towards us like a boxer with a broken leash. But I digress.)
It’s a process of looking at the things I own and asking are you still useful? Are you still beautiful? Does owning you make my life better?
And sometimes the answer is yes and sometimes it’s no, and when no happens then it’s time for the object to leave.
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The funny thing is that I don’t yet know what I’m making space for.
It feels important, though.
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Maybe it’s just that I’m feeling the pressure of a busy spring approaching. It feels like something beyond that, though. There’s a question out there, and I feel like the answer is yes.
And there are the little comforts, too; writing a passage that feels exactly like I want it to feel, capturing an important moment between two characters, cuddling on the couch with a soft blanket and a book. These are important, too.
The days are getting longer. We’ll see what happens.
