Clean is overrated

Like most teenagers, Brendan treasures his sleep. Even though his bedroom has a stunning view of the lake, he has left the blinds closed almost every day for the four years he lived here so that he wouldn't forget to pull them down at night. This and his habit of leaving his bed unmade have never been well received by me, Brendan's mom.

And so, in an effort to find good in the sadness of leaving Brendan out in the big world known as Auburn, I came home and opened all the blinds, swept his room, changed the sheets and made the bed...sharp corners and all.

Gratifying in some ways, the project left me empty. Yes, the comforter that never made it on top of the bed matched the paint color beautifully. And yes, the light streaming through the windows seemed to brighten the whole upstairs. But it didn't feel like Brendan's room. It was way too sterile...lifeless really. Nothing about this newly cleaned space reflected all of the fun times Brendan had in his room with his buddies over; or the late nights studying for a test; or the backrubs he sweetly asked for after a football game. No dirty clothes, no overflowing trash, no X-box controllers strewn about. Clean is overrated.

Last night when Malcolm and I went to bed Kiki said, "I miss Brendan, this is the time when we usually hang out. I'm gonna watch a movie in his room."

After filling the pot with vanilla cream coffee this morning I walked into Brendan's room and noticed the comforter was wrinkled, there was a plate with crumbs on the bed, and a half-full glass of water sitting on the wood floor.

Thank you Kiki for trashing the place.