Imperfect Paradise

This morning that's what came to me. What we have at our house is imperfect paradise.

Last night, immediately after I wrote my previous warm and fluffy blog entry, this household fell apart. Well, sort-of.

Tom brought home these huge boxes and spread them all over the dining room and our tiny entryway. We already had other boxes, ones I'd tried in various ways to disguise and hide, awaiting to be sent off as Ebay shipments. And actually, considering my first-born, neat-freak ways, I've been pretty patient about this whole Ebay business of Tom's. All things considered, anyway.

Well, he carried in all these extra boxes and I asked him--patiently, after all, I'd just written that nice, sweet post--if we couldn't move some of them down to the basement.

Now, Naomi was in the kitchen and my words were apparently her cue to make some rather unkind remarks about my requests. And then she began on what I call our one recurring clash point--that I am disgustingly-sloppy about some things around the house. We've played this record a few times and I guess both Tom and I were sick of hearing it. Things escalated and so did the topic. Tom and I formed a united front (which has always driven Naomi bonkers) and told her that perhaps if she didn't like the way I keep house, or make rules, well, perhaps she should leave.

We had never given her that invitation before. But there it was.

And frankly she appeared quite challenged by it and is making plans quite quickly to follow through on it. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with my daughter, she is 24 years old, not 12, lest you think we are mean, wild-eyed parents.)

Funny-sad how you can make such nice plans and have them all fall apart in five minutes. Poor Tom was wound tighter than a top, in his quiet, make-your-joints-hurt-worse way, and I spent the next hour calming him down. I reminded him that this day would come and by now, we both should certainly be prepared for it. But of course, I also told him I'd always wished Naomi would leave on the very best of terms--just as a natural progression in the happy scheme of things.

So Tom and I talked awhile and then realized we needed to laugh--to lighten up--so we came down here and watched a terrific episode of Jack Benny at Movie Flix. One where long-gone actors like Fred MacMurray, Dan Dailey, plus, Kirk Douglas, Tony Martin and others met at Jack's house for a weekly 'jam session.' What a delight to watch them play their instruments in Jack's livingroom while trying to keep from laughing out of pure, sheer fun.

It was almost as if they'd gathered in our own home. Almost. And that brought back all the memories of musical gatherings we *have* had here through the years...and all the dinners with friends... and Naomi's birthday parties... and the movies we've watched as a family...and Christmas mornings... and just plain living life and dealing with one day at a time.

So much Life and Living goes on beneath one roof, neighborhood after neighborhood, town after town. It's true we must take the bad with the good. But it's also true that the present bad should never cancel-out or blur any past good. Maybe they should both just blend to make something real. And something forever.

Imperfect paradise is still good enough for me, especially while living upon this oh-so-imperfect Earth.


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