Day 13: Shelves
Sometimes – not often – I dust how my mother taught me.
I take everything off the shelves. I fill the bucket with medium-hot water and a couple tablespoonfuls of Murphy’s Oil Soap. I dunk the rag, squeeze out the excess water, and wipe the surface to the corners. I put the rag back into the water, take the towel from my right shoulder, and dry. The towel, now a little damp, is set to dust the items that go back on the shelf. I do that before putting them back in place (or not, depending on my mood). Then, I move to the next surface.
Today, I noticed the oval, nesting Shaker boxes. Matt’s aunt and uncle gave them to us as a wedding gift, and they’re one of the very few items we’ve kept through all the moves over the last 18 years.
I noticed what I need to do after I’m done dusting, like polish the silver candlesticks and coffee service from my grandma.
I saw what I’m good at – keeping things relatively uncluttered – and what I’m bad at. Every surface has a ring, courtesy of my inability to use our coasters.
So much of what we have has been given. There’s the funky radio cabinet from Matt’s grandparents, the yellow couch from my grandmother, the piano from Matt’s parents, and the leather couches from my parents. I dusted the shelves of the cabinet my great-grandfather built for my grandmother to host her teacup collection. I shook out our orange wall quilt, the top pieced by my great-great grandmother in the 1930s and quilted by me in 2008 before Jesse was born.
Thank you.
I’m grateful for the plants that survive my benign negligence. I need to replace the dead ones, and I will do this, lying to myself that this time, this time, will be different.
Time for me to sign off. Matt’s made waffles. After I eat, I will vacuum. I will polish the silver. Then, I’m going to do one of my new favorite things – open all the windows and build a fire.