Butterflies

The new carpet came last Thursday. I spent most of my spare time in March either mentally or physically getting things off the carpeted part of the floor. My commute time was heavily taken up trying to decide which things would fit in the kitchen or one of the bathrooms and which things would have to go into the storage unit I rented just for the new carpet.

Wednesday night my daughter and I moved the most of the non-essential heavy stuff out into the driveway, blocked from casual view by the cars. Bright and too early Thursday morning, with the help of a friend, we got the rest moved. The back door and laundry area were completely blocked with boxes, then the TV. The rack of DVDs got moved into the kitchen, blocked in by the piano, and then the couch that has recliners at each end and is too heavy to get outside. And my bathroom was so full of stuff, it was unusable. We kept my daughter's bathroom available.

But once everything was off the carpet, what a glorious day! There was nothing we could do but sit outside in our office chairs in the shade and watch the butterflies go by. We took our little dog, Abby, for a walk heading south along the street as the butterflies flew north. Flocks of Monarchs came at us, making a starburst pattern as the breeze blew them around and behind us. It was exhilarating.

After our walk, we napped in our chairs, Abby on my lap, and at 3:00, I got in the car to listen to Hugh. That's when I heard that Terri Schiavo had finally passed away, and I thought about her and the butterflies, about transformation and a glorified body in heaven.

And then the installers finished, and we had to move everything back in the house from outside. By the time we finished, it was late, and I had bruises at my wrists and on my knees and up one thigh. I got my daughter's bed put together and my box spring and mattress thrown on the floor, and I hit the sack so I could get up at 5:00 Friday morning to go to work.

It was like that in March: Full of Terri Schiavo and also getting ready for carpet. Full of the most crucial issues of life and also the mundane.

Now, as I go through April, I don't want the mundane to win.