What A Beautiful Mess I’m In. by Liz Alley
D
irty fingerprints on white cabinets means my granddaughter has been helping in the kitchen.
Burnt lasagna in the bottom of the oven from the meal I cooked for my kids, grands, sister and niece. A mound of towels and sheets after a week-end where guests’ laughter filled the house. Glasses rimmed with different shades of lipstick, scrapes of paper with rows of numbers scattered on the kitchen table from the weekly Saturday evening card game. Little clumps of red mud from my son in law’s boots reminding me these are the sons I thought I’d never have. Tattered hymnals stacked by the backdoor to remind me to sing to my mother. A row of tiny “O’s” under the ottoman where my grandson lost some Cheerios. Droopy flowers dying in a vase that I can’t bear to throw out because my daughter left them there for me. A rusted firepit blocking my garage door until I can turn it into a planter. A wheelbarrow full of weeds from a flower garden that looks relieved. Stacks of clothes to step over in my closet because I lost a little weight. Sheets in a pile by the washer because the fresh ones are on the bed. Streaky windows on display, backlit from a brilliant sunset. Scribbled stacks of paper on the sofa about my thoughts on Lent and Easter. A smattering of leaves fallen from my favorite houseplant. A rolling ball of yarn to make a crocheted scarf. A stack of books in my bicycle basket to donate to the little library down the street. A purse filled with all manner of unneeded things except that tube of the perfect shade of lipstick. Muddy boots on the back porch that have trampled through job sites for my new design jobs. My umbrella dripping on the floor from the rain that watered my grass. A front door that needs painting which means I have a house. A checkbook that needs balancing which means there’s some money in the bank. Phone calls to return means I have a family and friends. When the day is done with little rest, I’m reminded I live in a beautiful mess.
Liz Alley was born and raised in Rabun County in the city of Tiger. She loves to write. She is an interior designer specializing in repurposing the broken, tarnished, chipped, faded, worn and weathered into pieces that are precious again. She is the mother of two daughters and has two grandchildren. She divides her time between her home in Newnan and Rabun County.
66 GML - April 2021
