The Cracks

The living room furniture doesn’t match.  There isn’t any art hanging over the fireplace.

          Home feels like home.

The vegetables in the garden died because we neglected to water them too many times.  There is moldy pizza sauce in the back of the fridge.

          Our bellies are full and so are our hearts.

Nearly every one of the kids’ puzzles seems to be missing a piece.  That photo book from six years ago is still short a few pages.

          We play outside in the grass as the sky turns from blue to pink to purple to dark.

The garage floor is buried.  The faucet drips.  The car is overdue for an oil change.  The laundry is piled up.

          I worked hard this week.  I talked to my dad for a while on the phone.  We spent time with relatives from out of town.  

I need to get to the dentist.   My wardrobe is basic.

          I rode my bike to work and ran outside in the sunshine this week.  My clothes fit.

I don’t have a five-year plan.

          I love the now.

Things slip through the cracks every single day — there is no way around it.  And at the end of my day, peace is being clear about what can fall through and what can’t.  It’s being honest about what I would like to have and what I need to have….and being OK with a perhaps less “pinteresting,” yet more fulfilling balance.