dust

When you move to a new house, you have to decide where to put the heavy furniture. The goal is to put it somewhere good, so that you won’t have to move it again. If you play your cards right, you’ll end up with a nice, eye-catching feature than defines the room and serves a purpose. Over the years that piece of furniture will become a comforting, familiar presence, perhaps soothing you as soon as you enter the room. Get it right, and you won’t even want to move it.

But eventually it will need to be moved, and then you’ll discover the delights of what lurks behind a heavy piece of furniture that has lain undisturbed for many, many months. Cobwebs and dust, yes, but also missing toys or coins, or carelessly discarded raisins and bits of dried, shriveled orange peel. There’s almost no limit to the surprises waiting for you behind an immobile piece of furniture.

Now where’s the heavy furniture in my soul? What are the things that I’ve plonked down and left untouched for years, either because they look nice where they are or because I just can’t be bothered to move them? Maybe it’s something that’s actually impractical or even dangerous, but its constant presence has become comfortingly familiar to me. Is it time to shift something, either to get the vacuum cleaner in there, or just in case I happen to find some sparkling treasure that I thought was lost forever many years ago?