The room upstairs

In this house we do cleaning sprints.  We host a French exchange student beginning next Saturday. His room upstairs is now ready.  We have made three trips to Goodwill, and piled the curb on trash day last week.  We clean to deadline.  All three of us clean to deadline.  One room down.  More to go.  Lots more to go.

The room upstairs

Is ready to host.

The theme is teal and gray

With white jersey sheets,

A picture on the wall

My grandmother painted:

Flowers with teal leaves.

It is masculine enough.

Over the dresser hangs the line drawing

Of a hippo

With a fork,

A Thanksgiving turkey

Ready to eat.

A whimsical touch.

Do the French

Appreciate whimsy?

We have made baby steps

On the rest of the house.

We have begun the countdown

To ready enough.

The door is shut

To the host-able room,

Upstairs.

The cat waits outside

The door,

Ready to make a break

For clean sheets

New pillows

A hiding place

Under the bed.

The next right thing

My beloved and I sit at the dining table, name the things which must be tossed or given away.  This weekend we will completely clear the room for our exchange student.  Next weekend is for redecoration.  

I think about the person I sat with years ago who had a dirty white chair in her living room.  It loomed every time she walked in the house.  We made a plan together to get that white chair cleaned by the next time we met..  That one simple act got her unstuck.  It seemed magical to me. AA often talks about doing the next right thing.  I found myself offering the same counsel this week to another client.  Today we sit at the dining table and identify the next right thing for this weekend.

The room which will hold

Our French exchange student

Beckons.

Now the door,

cracked open,

Allows the possibility

Of emptying,

Then cleaning.

The Halloween decorations scream:

Light-up eyeballs,

Shivering ghosts,

The spider we put

In the front hallway

Many years ago.

Mr Green,

The talking miniature Christmas tree:

He cackles.

Endless partial rolls

Of red and green wrapping paper

We never could find every Christmas.

So each year

We added more.

The candle lights

For every window

Are there.

One fell

Burned a hole in my carpet

In Boston.

The room beckons

With holiday trappings,

Its door cracked open.

The deadline looms.

Two weeks from now

France arrives to stay with us

For two weeks.

All three of us

Most always

Work to deadline.

Cleared space

It surprises me every time.  One cleared space encourages order in more things than the obvious.   In our house the dining table is the center of family activity, or at least it*s the center when it is not overtaken with clutter.  I forget this.  It is good to be surprised, again.

The dining table:

It*s the center of the known universe.

It holds three laptop computers,

Homework,

Grading,

Often bills and catalogues.

We cleared it for Thanksgiving.

Now the Advent wreath holds court

At one end.

The cloth napkins from Thanksgiving

Mark three places

For us,

The family,

To eat.

Now we begin to sort the mail,

Recycle the catalogues,

Put the bills in a findable place.

Now, five days out,

We really set the table

For dinner.

The computers are put away.

The first purple candle

Is lit.

We even think of special things

To eat.

It is amazing what one simple cleared space

Can offer.

In our house the dining table

Is the center of the known universe.

When it is cleared,

The possibilities

Are endless.