Going into the Closet
My darling sister-in-law Margie, is short little fireball with enough personality for ten people and a southern accent. About a month ago, my husband Dave, daughter Catherine, Margie and her husband all went up to Butte, Montana for a funeral. I couldn’t go, but they kept me in loop. As expected, I heard about the beautiful service, but then I heard a whole lot more about the fact that THERE WAS NO CLOSET in Margie’s room at the Super 8 hotel. To my mind, this was not a big deal. I mean, if you’re going to stay at a Super 8, you’re not paying enough for expectations. I figure you’re lucky to have a mattress on the bed. Besides, Dave had sprung an extra $10 for the “deluxe” room, so he had a closet and he was willing to share it.This was NOT good enough. Not having a closet blew Margie’s mind, and to our great amusement, she did not let this go.
One night, after hearing about the lack of closet for the fourth time; I hung up the phone, and wondered if I’d ever had any strange encounters of the closet kind? I thought of two. We once had a tiny room in New York City. It was one of those places so small that you could sit on the toilet while brushing your teeth and soaking your feet in the tub all at the same time. But, it did have a tiny closet. I have no idea why. It was so shallow that even the hangars didn’t fit, so putting our clothes in it, let alone our suitcases was out of the question. I suppose we might have used the space to stand and stretch our legs, sort of like a saint in a church niche, if the closet bar hadn’t been in the way.
The other memorable closet was awesome. It belonged to one of the cheap (for Disney anyway) resorts at Disney World. Now that I think about it, I suppose the closet was actually normal enough, but it didn’t feel that way because of the pillows. Big fat pillows were everywhere, on the closet shelf, on its floor, on the beds, in the drawers, on top of the coat rack. They kept spilling out of every available space like clowns out of a little car. We had no use for most of them, but I’m not complaining. It was fun to be surrounded by our own personal clouds of fluffiness.
But let’s not forget that back at the Super 8, Margie had NO CLOSET! I guarantee she hasn’t forgotten this or stopped talking about it. It’s only been a month after all. Talking to Catherine, I suggested that maybe Margie was right and we were the problem. Maybe we had never taken the time to truly appreciate the value of the closets in our lives; Their squareness, their bnowness, their doors. Also, that we could put things IN and also take things OUT. Maybe she should take the time to truly appreciate that her room had one of these marvels of convenience. Having the sense of humor that she does, she actually did so. The next time I called she was able to assure me that she had indeed taken the time to share a moment with the closet. She opened it mindfully, and truly appreciated all of its dimensions and features. She reflected on the closets in her own home and the blessing they were in her life.
Two weeks lafter this dubious piece of enlightenment. They were back in the same Super 8, this time with me along. I was impressed. The room was really big, with huge windows giving us a spectacular view But it didn’t take us long to notice that something was missing. We struggled to accept the terrible truth. There was no closet. Thanks to Margie and Catherine, I now better understood the depth of my loss. All I could do was to throw back my head and howl my grief to the skies with the wolves that roam the great Montana mountains. Who incidentally, also have no closet.
One night, after hearing about the lack of closet for the fourth time; I hung up the phone, and wondered if I’d ever had any strange encounters of the closet kind? I thought of two. We once had a tiny room in New York City. It was one of those places so small that you could sit on the toilet while brushing your teeth and soaking your feet in the tub all at the same time. But, it did have a tiny closet. I have no idea why. It was so shallow that even the hangars didn’t fit, so putting our clothes in it, let alone our suitcases was out of the question. I suppose we might have used the space to stand and stretch our legs, sort of like a saint in a church niche, if the closet bar hadn’t been in the way.
The other memorable closet was awesome. It belonged to one of the cheap (for Disney anyway) resorts at Disney World. Now that I think about it, I suppose the closet was actually normal enough, but it didn’t feel that way because of the pillows. Big fat pillows were everywhere, on the closet shelf, on its floor, on the beds, in the drawers, on top of the coat rack. They kept spilling out of every available space like clowns out of a little car. We had no use for most of them, but I’m not complaining. It was fun to be surrounded by our own personal clouds of fluffiness.
But let’s not forget that back at the Super 8, Margie had NO CLOSET! I guarantee she hasn’t forgotten this or stopped talking about it. It’s only been a month after all. Talking to Catherine, I suggested that maybe Margie was right and we were the problem. Maybe we had never taken the time to truly appreciate the value of the closets in our lives; Their squareness, their bnowness, their doors. Also, that we could put things IN and also take things OUT. Maybe she should take the time to truly appreciate that her room had one of these marvels of convenience. Having the sense of humor that she does, she actually did so. The next time I called she was able to assure me that she had indeed taken the time to share a moment with the closet. She opened it mindfully, and truly appreciated all of its dimensions and features. She reflected on the closets in her own home and the blessing they were in her life.
Two weeks lafter this dubious piece of enlightenment. They were back in the same Super 8, this time with me along. I was impressed. The room was really big, with huge windows giving us a spectacular view But it didn’t take us long to notice that something was missing. We struggled to accept the terrible truth. There was no closet. Thanks to Margie and Catherine, I now better understood the depth of my loss. All I could do was to throw back my head and howl my grief to the skies with the wolves that roam the great Montana mountains. Who incidentally, also have no closet.