Celebration of a Mess

I'm standing in my kitchen, drenched in glorious morning sunlight.

God (the Universe, Whoever) has once again seen fit to share It's magnificence with me, It's beautiful light surging into my humble home. I stand in the light and am instantly aware of the symbolism – light surging into my home, blessings surging into my life: the former illuminating my outer self, the latter illuminating my inner self.

I survey the damage from the night before.

It's minimal.

Some kind person has thoughtfully gathered all the glasses into one spot.

The floor copped the worst of it. Chip crumbs, drink spills. Yesterday just a floor, today a canvas we, the artists, have brushed with the paint of our friendship.

Echoes of the music and voices fill my head as I feel my mouth involuntarily forming a grin. I suppose my eyes are dancing now at the memory of the impromptu musical performances produced just hours ago. I envisage perfect partygoers, well rehearsed in harmless fun, a welcome and very much appreciated slice of my life.

My eyes drift to the table.

Another mess.

A pink, floral jumble of gift-wrap, ribbons and bags once containing pink, shiny, heart-shaped gifts, selected with love and now displayed amongst the jumble.

I'm beaming now as I take my time meandering through the jumble, inspecting each offering.

I marvel at the appropriateness of every gift. Each one seems to have my name stamped upon it. How did these people find such treasures? I am filled with the beautiful warmth of familiarity. Immensely complimented that people know my taste.

Gratitude engulfs me as I acknowledge the time spent by each individual in the selection and presentation of their gift. Do I reciprocate the love when selecting gifts myself?

The thought, time and effort are gifts in themselves, the end result of which I can now touch, see, smell, eat.

Between the kettle and myself stands a wall of cards. Each one a silent sentinel to the undercurrent of love in my life.

I need only to select one to enjoy the good wishes contained therein. But who could stop at one?

Soldier by soldier is plucked, discharged of ammunition, inspected for the tiniest detail - an underlining here, a paw-print there - and then replaced to rearm for the next sortie. A perpetual armoury of love at my disposal: who could ask for more?

I'm still beaming.

As I eventually reach for the kettle, I muse to myself how much I have to celebrate on this birthday. Not just the fact that I was born at this time a few(!) years ago, but my life itself, the people in my life.

People who took the time to select gifts, and cards, and take time out of their busy lives to celebrate my life with me.

I am humbled and grateful.

Mess?

What mess?

Someone else may see a mess.

I see evidence of a life shared and celebrated.

A beautiful work of art gifted to me.

I am humbled and grateful.