Piles of Happiness
I am organizing myself, again! Papers, envelopes, bills, books, CD's, magazines, notes, and files are strewn all over the table, and I am painstakingly going through the disorganized mess on my dining table, trying to bring some kind of order to my madness! I am making some progress, feeling marginally accomplished. Now I have piles. Piles of bills. Pile of books. Piles of CD's. Piles of magazines. I am keeping at it. I have to finish this. The low-grade anxiety about neglected paperwork has been killing me. My older son comes home. I must look pathetic, as in an increasingly rare occurrence, he comes, hugs me, kisses me, and says some really sweet and wonderful words of greeting. He goes to watch basketball, his passion and joy. Immediately I hear him yell with glee for his favorite team in the TV room. I go back to my organization project. I move the stack of books to the bookshelf and put them back exactly where they should be, Hafez, Shams, Jibran, and Nima. I move the stack of CD to their containers and file them. I take the magazines into the other room. I come back and start on the paperwork. The table is already looking cleaner and tidier. I give myself an undeserved break, sipping my tea, and think: sometimes happiness is a clean dining table, some sealed and stamped envelopes containing paid bills, poetry books on a shelf, and a young man messing up the TV room again, as he roots for his favorite team.