So we remodeled my in-laws’ house, rather their bedroom,
which is as grand a place as a whole home.
It is the first sight upon opening eyes
& the last before sleeping.
It is so grand
(& even though I am FORBID to post any pictures before the big reveal
via IKEA & their publications)
you can trust.
And we were so pooped
on our bike ride home.
I pulled-up, parked, & looked behind.
Her mouth open,
not kidding like sometimes when she
wants to be carried-in,
cutely with a small amount of deception.
She was OUT.
Redoing takes work,
even if you are just
hanging around, jumping on beds.
Upon coming to, she said,
“I want my room looking more pretty, too”.
Not jealous, just highly inspired,
“Let’s make it more pretty, yes?”
So I am looking for the hammer,
still, taking inventory
of every frame,
hanging plates on walls,
& getting ready to switch curtains,
hang out futons,
weed out the too small things
the hanging-up of clothes,
the spaghetti/netflix binging,
the polishing of silver,
“what the heck will i cook for dinner” & when will i return that year-old library book?
in the thick of it–
doing the little things
the heavy things
It feels like throwing flames
& scrubbing dishes
with five-day-old nails,
thinking only last night
did we sip some bubbly.
come in, glamour, come in clean,
come in swaths of curtains blowing in open-window breeze
come in recipes with potatoes
cream, dill, and shallots
come in brilliance,
inspiration, & the energy to set sparks to flint,
soup to table,
hearth to city,