I seem to keep a lot of things in the back of my mind. At least I seem to say that a lot whether out loud or just to myself. Makes me wonder if it was a physical space what would the back of my mind look like.
I see cobwebs, lots and lots of cobwebs which is kind of surprising since the space seems to get used a lot but I guess it’s mostly for storage. I suppose things get mulled over and contemplated there too but the activity level is low. Any thoughts that rise above mulling are bouncing around in the front of my brain where the rubber walls are ever-present. I think the front of my brain is kind of like an ER waiting room where all the issues, ideas, emergencies, etc. are waiting to be triaged and dealt with but that’s a different story.
The back of my mind is a dim space lit by one bulb on a pull chain but bright sunlight spills in from time to time when the days are good. A couple of file cabinets line the walls and the desk is mostly neat but covered with papers. In this day and age of Siri and smart phones there are still little yellow sticky notes plastered everywhere. Siri is a back up though.
What it really reminds me of is one of those old attic rooms/offices you might see in an old Victorian house with a turret, the kind of thing you’d see in a movie. A slight musty smell in the background but not so much that it takes over the room because there is a sweet scent that rises to the top from the flowers in the yard outside the small window.
Crumbled pieces of paper all over the floor. Ideas that never came to fruition that haven’t been let go of yet. Good ideas whose time just hasn’t come. Bad ideas that are kept as not to repeat them. Things that should have been said but weren’t.
The wood floor creaks beneath your feet and in the winter the cold drafts chill the room but it’s an invigorating cold, the kind that makes you know you’re alive. But it’s also cozy with just the right sweater. The summer breezes are sweet smelling and comforting. It’s a great place to watch a thunderstorm or see the world turn white from a blizzard.
Sometimes people are in the back of mind. There is an old rocking chair in the corner, hand carved, dark wood. They sit there. Sometimes just silently watching, sometimes asking questions and sometimes just telling me it will be ok. Sometimes I ask questions but they don’t answer.
Other times movies in the form of daydreams play in the small space. An old movie projector rattles away throwing images on that old pull down screen like my dad’s. Shorts, full length features, cartoons, color, black and white, they’re all there more often than I realize. A lot of memories that can’t be rewritten but hopes and dreams as well that are still being formed and jotted down and honed.
You might think it’s a crowded space, the back of my mind, but it real isn’t. Not everything there has a place any more, it’s easy to let it all just pile up when it isn’t in the way. I guess it is a bit cluttered and hard to move around these days.
Maybe what the back of mind needs is just a good cleaning out and redecorating. I’ll have to mull that over, I’ll keep it in the back of my mind for the time being.