Friday, April 4, 2008
I am cleaning house. I have moved the refrigerator and stove to clean under them, taken down curtains, and wiped down surfaces. I have removed and individually cleaned every light bulb in the chandelier. The house has taken on a crisp character which is heightened by the clear Spring day. Standing back and admiring my efforts, I suddenly feel my grandmother in the room; she is everywhere by virtue of cleanliness. The cleansed room infused with bright light has invoked my memory of the annual introduction of Spring through my Grandmother's household ablutions. I marvel at how the ritual of housework evaporated the threshold between the living and the dead.