CONTROL

It's funny what an organized utensil drawer will do. A clean refrigerator. A vacuumed floor and the smell of clean, summer living.

In a world where things are messy, I like the lists. The sorted. The color coded. Strange habits for a kooky bird like me who also owns chickens and has basil growing like a banshee in the back yard.

A place for everything. Everything in its place.

I watched IV this morning, cross legged on my bathroom rug, putting away an assortment of powders and makeup that had fallen out of my cosmetic bag. Carefully zipping things in compartments, snapping them in place, putting brushes away. I almost stopped him. But I didn't.

He is MY child. There is no way that nature OR nurture have escaped him.

He needs the ground, just like I do. And while he thrives with imagination and wild dreams, he needs the ground. He needs the consistency, the gentle hand on his back to say "I love you and I am watching you to keep you safe."

I get itchy when things are not in place. I believe some would say I have "control issues." Me? I just think it's the only way I can keep riding this rollercoaster, knowing where the spatulas are and not knowing where the road will lead.