Roaming through the house with my little jar of spackle looking for holes to fill. All the rooms packed up and now trying to remember what picture or memento was there just a few days or even hours ago. Small holes, big holes each needing its own personal dab of spackle and then touch of paint to be lost amidst the grandeur of the wall, fixed and forgotten. But the slight blemish still there for the discerning eye, no matter how good the repair or how grand the wall might be.
How often do we move through life making holes, small ones and big ones, and never consider going back to repair each one of them? Sometimes forgetting we made a hole. Sometimes not even knowing we did. And when we recognize the hole was made, trying as hard as we can to remember why we made it. What was so important for us to make the hole in the first place? As we look back, while repairing the impact, maybe we should have been looking forward, pondering if this is a hole we’ll have to repair. What if we don’t? What if we can’t? All the while knowing, if we make the hole it can never, ever, be fully repaired; always, forever a blemish.
Not trying to erase memories or fade into the greater landscape of mankind; but, trying to think about the holes we have made as well as those we have. Some which need to be filled, some which we want to fill; and knowing there is a difference.
Hmm, this is a rather large hole, wonder what was hung here; hope it was worth it. Spackle and paint…spackle and paint…
Never Fear the Dream….
simplebender 