it was a beautiful september day. september is one of my favorite months, but i'm biased. it's my birth month. i'm a virgo. i'm supposed to be a perfectionist. a hard worker. loyal. physically beautiful. practical.
a tall order i say.
what is perfect. what is beautiful. what made a hard worker out of me today was the fridge. soapy water and sponge. garbage bags. to town i went spraying and scrubbing and cleaning out science projects, mom's rice from june i couldn't bring myself to throw away... turned it off. off and it went warm. pulled shelves out and the veggie drawer. after 2 hours and 2 trips to the floor garbage cans, i was done. off went 5 year old condiments. and that sad little box of wheatina (gross by the way).
it's like brand new. i keep opening it to check and make sure it's still really clean.
close up... she's wide-eyed and sparkly. a damned good job. she's almost even smiling. and it's genuine, there is no audience to impress or fool. her mouth just smiles. it's all been cleaned.
it's all been cut away. pulled away. shrugged off. manipulated to unhook the petty adhesions that have stuck into the inside of her. sticky stringy nooses that tightened to squeeze the joy from her.
she's clean, well fed and tired. a good tired. a safe tired. no smoking to damage, to finish off what others had begun. she's got a head full of "everything in it's right place" and an old poem from a dear friend tucked in her jeans pocket.