Sparking Joy
Dec 26 2022
The cluttered home
seems welcoming
and unpretentious.
It's cozy and warm
and has a lived-in look.
Like that well-adjusted person
who is comfortable in her own skin;
who knows what's important in life.
and has no fear of judgment.
Dust balls and puppy toys,
princess dolls
and plastic trucks.
Orphaned Legos
scattered like landmines
for unsuspecting feet.
And tattered magazines
on mismatched chairs,
library books
too overdue to care.
Not to mention dinner dishes
crusted with food
that have yet to be cleared,
yesterday's paper
splayed out on an ottoman
spilling onto the floor.
I, on the other hand, live alone.
Where the decor is spare
and everything has its place;
perhaps not sparking joy, exactly,
but what I've grown accustomed to.
And when I put something down
at least I don’t find it moved.
I suppose
it might appear a little cold.
A stranger
would walk gingerly here,
taking care
not to misstep;
perch on the edge of a chair
with his hands demurely folded.
Is there an opposite of hygge?
A Danish word
denoting home, comfort, conviviality.
Plush cushions
and over-stuffed chairs,
scuffed tables
and junk on the floor.
And my house
spare, fussy, airy.
Modern furniture
made of buffed blonde wood,
that looks good
but is hard on the back
and isn't for relaxing in.
A coffee table
with a few chosen objects
arranged just so.
And hardwood floors,
gleaming
in the thoughtfully placed light.
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