What a mess

Life is unpredictable.

If I could tell my old self seven years ago, when I was leaving a twenty year old marriage, that life was going to be all I imagined, I would not believe.  If I could have used some words of comfort and explained to myself that I was going to work on what I loved most, I would buy a house, would raise my kids alone, would travel the world… Probably I would have saved myself from a lot of tears.

Life is a beautiful mess that I don’t even dare to question anymore. Days when I prefer to cook instead of cleaning, or photograph food instead of writing job proposals, or decide to have tea and read a book instead of sleeping. These are all beautiful days and we can make them more beautiful if we can accept them the way they come.

There are days that drag for more than fifty hours, days when it is not important if anything gets done, days when no word comes out of my mouth. And there are days that go so fast that are over before it started, when so much gets produced, done, signed, payments received, people are thankful and the food tastes great!

There are moments when my heart feels heavy just thinking about my dog, or when I think about those moments when there was hardly any money around to dream of anything. There are days when my heart hurts thinking about the homeless that I got to know, or the kids that lived in the orphanage that I used to work.  There are days when I laugh watching cartoons and fall deep into my child mode. Days when I hope everyone leaves the house fast so I can listen to all of the music and songs I love and nobody does. There are days when I can’t wait for these same people to come back at the end of the day, and days when I am tired of cooking and run out of inspiration.

At the end all is me and there’s no limit to what can be done inside the walls of my mind. Life is more like of an unorganized repetition of facts alternated by some unpredictable mess. Life is a beautiful mess.


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