You know the stuff that sticks in the corners of the sink or the bathtub, the yuck that takes extra time to scrub because it builds up? We sometimes let it go for as long as possible until we just can't stand looking at it, let alone imagine our bodies mingling with it. Just think of how much gunk lies inside of us all, waiting to be cleansed.
I know, I know, people always talk about spring as the time to clean house. But, for whatever reason, it feels especially true this month. Literally, when the calendar flipped to March, my tiny universe shifted. A cosmic fairy waved her little wand, sprinkling the scent of transformation into our air ducts.
For instance, Eric and I recently discussed "us"in the newly committed stage, seven years ago. We settled a misunderstanding, a residue of past hurt still clinging to the outer banks of my memory. One evening in the spring of 2004 had been lingering. An evening that represented a major issue in our lives back then.
To think, I didn't even realize how dirty that spot was. I'd grown so accustomed to its shape and color, when nostalgia's flashlight shined upon it.
And suddenly, I don't have to believe something false anymore. For so much time, I was sullied by an incorrect interpretation of not just one night, but of many misperceived moments in our lives during that time. Imagine.
What are you waiting for? Get out the broom and scrub brush.
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