Have you ever been in one of those (seldom) cleaning moods where you get down and dirty with the dirt? You know the mood I'm talking about. The OCD type of cleaning mood where the tiniest crumb hiding in the corner of the pantry doesn't stand a chance.
Yeah....doesn't happen to me very often, either.
Two weeks ago, I found myself in the midst of a random cleaning marathon. As I scrubbed crusted yogurt (and another substance strikingly similar to grits) from one of the legs of our kitchen table, I quickly found myself lying flat on my back.
When I clean, I take no prisoners.
Sponge in hand, I followed the trail of splattered yogurt, which led me further and further under the table, until I rested completely underneath. Just as you would lie in a tall, grassy meadow and stare at the clouds passing by, I stared at the underside of our table.
The scrubbing came to an abrupt stop. I found a treasure.
A mural. (No doubt, created with Sharpies.) As I studied the drawings, I located the artists signature and invited him to join me. There we lay, under the table, while he pointed out the mountains, a rainbow, and several more mysteries hidden within his masterpiece.
Pointing to the center of the table, he said, "That's where I wrote my name for the first time."
Given the fact that our home is plentiful with paper, and many other resources for developing artists, I asked why he chose this location. Why the underside of the kitchen table?
"Because the top is plain, and brown." he said. "I wanted part of our table to be beautiful, and I wanted it to never erase, so that everyone who comes to our home can see it."
To my husband, who often questions my need to save every drawing, creation, craft, special article of clothing, first pair of shoes, and anything else nostalgically related to our boys, I say this-
Add the kitchen table to the list of things I shall never part with.
And to my brother, I say this-
See? I knew the day would come where one of my children would use a Sharpie for an acceptable purpose.