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| Photo by Abigail Keenan on Unsplash |
I remember how I was, spoke a lady in the circle of friends.
Impetuous, I'd speak without thinking. I'd said what came to mind and thought she owned the world. Capriciously, I wanted things my way. And screamed over and over when they weren't. Meticulous, I'd keep everything to the smallest detail. A picture that was one inch askew on the wall, or the ornament on the table.
I would enter the house with my eyes looking for something out of place just for the pleasure of putting them in place. And would complain about whoever didn't put it exactly as she wished.
My closet was impeccable. All clothes lined up, divided by season, by colors. I could look for clothes in the dark and find them. But, would shout to anyone who dared to fiddle with the closet. I'd know if anyone had even opened the closet. And it was a reason for a great discussion.
The books were separated by author, by subject and in alphabetical order to facilitate the search. Naturally, no one could touch them unless I picked it up handed it over recommending: "Watch the cover. Don't knead. Wash your hands thoroughly before opening the book."
Yes, I was like that. Nothing anyone did was good enough for me.
I cleaned the house, because nobody did it like me. And it consumed the hours in ordering, aligning, grouping, adjusting. Everything always had to be impeccable.
Time has passed
But time has passed and I found out that I was wrong in many things.
When my sister abruptly left in a car accident, I felt my heart break. Looking at the empty house, I wondered what it was worth to be in order, impeccable? I would give anything for her to be there so she would come in and mess up my books, my dishes, my things. I wanted to see her opening my closet, choosing clothes to wear, messing up with the order that was standing there, unused.
Then my brother and my mother died too.
With each death, I discovered that the best thing is to have a home for people to come in and feel good, not being suffocated. I found that more important than anything, those people, not the stuff, were the meaning of my life.
And then, I changed.
I still like things tidy, in order but without exaggeration. My nephews come into my house and play. And they jump and I sit with them on the floor to read stories, look at pictures. And while we read, we eat popcorn, chocolate and drink juice. How good it is to taste stories with someone eager for curiosity even if your fingers are dirty with chocolate or greasy with popcorn?
My closet is no longer untouched. The nieces love to look for something different to use. Even if it is for the costume dance with their friends.
I learned to accept and respect the work of others, thanking them.
The hours I would spend washing, cleaning, polishing, I now dedicate to children, young people, my loves.
Yes, I have changed a lot. Life taught me.
Too bad I had to lose so many loved ones in order to learn. I could have been much happier, a long time ago. However, there's always time and I thank God, however, that I woke up in time to still enjoy many joys on Earth.
I sincerely hope that none of you need to go through this to learn.
