A houselift

The house needed a revamping just like her life. All of five years old, it looked lovely when they first moved in. She had taken great care choosing the fixture, every piece of furniture, the lovely stone, glass and wood showcase in the hall, even the ends of the curtain rods were just the right shade. Her curtains were lovely with a rich look – all the shades she had chosen were muted, beige and shades of brown with a little line of gold running wherever she could manage.

Today, the house looks shabby. Crayon drawings and marks are all over the walls interspersed with patches of brown where in spite of her best efforts, the children have managed to stick something nasty, usually chocolate. The sofas are in a pathetic state with the upholstery coming apart and the heavy drapes would do with a thorough cleaning which simply cannot be done at home.

Her mind feels like the house. Once upon a time it sparkled, each facet throwing off a light of varied hue. Now it was badly in need of polish – occasionally a spark would show to remind her of how she used to be. Her thoughts lie scattered like the toys that she keeps picking up. Her smile is as faded as the sofa cushions. Her eyes have long ceased to shine merrily and instead look inward for some kind of solution to her need to clean up her life.

The house can be put to rights with a paint job, new sofas and the threat of capital punishment on any tendency to crayon by the kids. But what of her life? Can one buy new thoughts? Can one mix and match desires with actions? A fresh breeze of air blew in the window making tendrils of her hair tickle her face, teasing out a smile. Why, not? , she thought. Why can’t I think anew, change my mind’s contents to what suits me, why can’t I get the sparkle back in my life? I will simply go ahead and do it all – fix my house, fix my life. I will not be afraid to go far in my bid to find myself – I will not be afraid to go too close either – she smiles as she thinks all this and the day begins to take on a new glow.