Cliches

As a former (eons ago) student of creative writing, I've heard it over and over and over again: Cliches are unimaginative. Cliches are lazy. Cliches are...cliche. But the overriding fact for me about cliches has always been: "They're all those things because they're basic truths." One of those cliches that hit home for me tonight was "Life is what happens when you're making other plans."

I started this blog to share my creative endeavors in the kitchen. Days later, "life" reared its ugly head and made (god, I so want to say "mincemeat" of my plans, but surely I can channel Mr. Broten and do better from the start).... Days later, life sucker-punched me... (sorry!), um... Days later, the One-And-Only-Holy-God-of-Making-Sure-You-Don't-Get-Too-Comfortable paid a visit and sent me skittering down the highway of doom.

Okay, a tad over-dramatic, perhaps. But my focus tonight is also dramatically skewed, so you'll forgive me. (Or I will just delete your comment. Ha!) Tonight, I sat looking around the room I spend the most time in. (The room I spend the most time ON as well.) Spring just finally sprung here a week ago, and I've been out of town all that time, so the room is still dressed in winter. The heavy deep purple drapes are still up, the deeply-cloaked forest rug still in place. The mantle is still dressed with winter berries and sparkling candles. And as I sit and look at it all, I realize it's the last time I'll see it this way. I'll switch the drapes and the mantle-scape and the rugs and all of the other details to mark the transition from winter to spring soon, and we won't be here when autumn begs me to bring back its winter duds.

Truly, this is the only part of our home I'll really, really miss. I put a lot of myself into every room in this house, but this is where we spent our time together as a family. In another incarnation, this is where Amarindra sang and sang for the camera. This is where Tyler sat on the couch puking from yet another endless childhood bug. This is where Rindy-Rose and I made cookies. Where Chevy and I worked on an elementary school science project and then eventually discussed college and laughed at Comedy Central after college. This is where the kids gathered after school, or after a party. This is where they had parties. And girlfriends and boyfriends and...

This is where I sat with my husband, cuddled together watching Mad About You or L.A. Law. This is where I tended to him when he was recovering from bypass surgery. This is where he laughed at me for setting off the smoke alarm yet again from another cooking failure. This is where I threatened to divorce him if he ever cooked pickled bamboo shoots in the house again. This is where he placed countless Valentine's Day and Anniversary bouquets.

This is where my mom always dropped all the many, many things she would bring along when she spent a weekend. This is where we played board games together every time she would visit. (And, sadly, only when she visited.)

This is where I've always sat alone late at night, unwinding after everyone goes to bed and doing whatever I wanted to do (like ripping my bra off and throwing it aside when hot flashes would rear their.. um... strike).

I'm going to miss this room so much. But really, it is only a room. We can make new memories elsewhere. And the memories we made here? They weren't about the room. They were about us.