Dear Crummy Motel,
Thank you for perspective. A single dark hair clings
to the bathroom sink and mottled dust hovers
on the baseboard edge. But all is not grim.
Stained carpet and a thrift store stench
urge me to appreciate life’s small luxuries.
Last night your thin walls invited me to the party next door,
and in this I am reminded that I am a quiet person in a quiet life.
Sometimes I forget.
On the table a tattered pad of paper calls me to scribble lines
about the barking men on the asphalt edges, revving engines
as their girlfriends emerge halter-topped and happy.
From the comfort of a swanky hotel, all this would go un-noticed.
I would be nestled in thick pillows and smooth sheets
watching Real Housewives on a sleek screen. I would pretend
real means heels, hair and endless parties.
But you, humble motel,
remind me how little I need,
how much I have.
It's Thankful Thursday. Joy expands and contracts in direct relation to our sense of gratitude. What are you thankful for today? A person, a place, a thing? A story, a song, a poem? What makes your world expand?