Embracing The Mess

I cringe when I look into the bedroom of Son Four. He’s the last one with us. His room smells like sweaty socks. It looks like a landfill.

I hate everything about it – except for the fact that he sleeps there.

Being that we’ve gone through this before I know it won’t be long before he moves on. I’ll have the room. I’ll be able to shuffle things around, make use of the closet space. It will be clean.

But he'll be living somewhere else.

That’s what makes it easier to tolerate this chaos in the meantime.