On Gardens and Doors

The tribe has been on vacation this past week and even though I'm going to jinx myself by saying it, they've been wonderful together. Granted, there are moments when Bubba-Love touches or, God forbid, LOOKS at one of Mini-Husband's toys, but overall, they seem to be getting along well.

The room they all share looks like a mine field. Legos everywhere. Barbies stuck in small PlayMobil houses. Teddy bears and dou dous hanging off the bunk bed. Clothes thrown around decorating the chaos like volcanic ash. A beautiful sight. Which is nicely hidden when I close their door.

If only I could do that for the rest of the house.

There are moments this week when I've felt completely over whelmed by my life. Too many people to worry about, too many rooms to clean, too many things I wish I could do or places I could go. I've found myself staring at the garden wondering how on earth I got myself into all this, this 'realness' that I'm responsible for. I find myself scared to think that I've failed in so many ways and that time is ticking away.

Our friend's father has been diagnosed with lung cancer and he's basically shut down. He's not interested in living any more and only communicates through his anger. It's understandable to a degree. He worked his whole life, saving and dreaming for his retirement, only to find out then that his life, his dreams, his plans, were done.

I stare at my garden and I worry the same thing will happen to us.

Perhaps this is why I'm letting the kids keep that room in such a state because...well, because they can. And because life is too quick and all too painful sometimes. Because the massiveness of it all is frightening. Just like those Legos.

I shut their door.

It's difficult to do that to my life. I can't. And truth be told, I don't think I want to.

I'm going to get some coffee and go have another round of staring at my garden. I really need to stop worrying so much about the forest. I should just enjoy the trees. One Lego at a time.