Black Hole

I have a black hole in my home.

It has everything-old books and notebooks, empty packaging, boxes, outgrown and over sized clothes. Cards written a good 7 years ago. There are balls of every size and color, broken trucks and runaway marbles. Letters that need to find their way to the rest of the alphabet. Dominoes and flash cards. Crayons of every shade, pencils of varying lengths, and a multitude of erasers. Little abubots that leave you wondering what the heck that mommy was thinking giving them in loot bags. Neglected stuffed animals in search of a loving home, yet unable to do so because their eight and four year old masters cannot bear to part with them. So into a box they go. Every imaginable art material necessary to create a masterpiece. And yet, they wait for genius to come and transform them into something other than paint, or glitter, or wax. Legos under the bed, inside a drawer, mixed with other game pieces. Shoes that have walked their last. And a little step stool to find things and mix them all up again.

Its amazing what I've found and sorted, stashed away, and discarded from the black hole in my home.

Its been 3 days counting.

And I'm still not done.