Husbands go misunderstood. Wives are blamed mistakenly. Children are punished wrongly.
Dishes sit in the sink. Spills linger. Clutter gathers. Grime accumulates.
We learn. We make mistakes. We do ugly things, fully aware. We have regrets.
We are imperfect.
We are imperfect beings.
I am an imperfect person.
But, there is beauty everywhere.
There is beauty in the apology, the reconciliation. It is in the learning the lesson, again.
It's in the decay, the turning of the page, the moving on, the change from one thing to another.
Beauty is perhaps the way in which we may organize the chaos, the mess, for ourselves. What is beautiful can be accepted, cherished, nurtured. And that which lays within us, called mess, may be honored for it's part in making us beautiful too.