the stars.

The stars were holding me back.

No, that’s not some artsy poetic beginning to a deep blog post.

The stars were literally delaying my progress.

A basket of assorted stars.

Probably twenty of them.

Maybe more.

Small.  Medium.  Blue.  Red.  Rustic.  Metal.  Tin.

Sitting on the red bench in our hall since the day we moved in.

I’d been telling myself since that day that I was not allowed to begin any new projects until those stars had been displayed.

Every last one of them.

I’d work on a few here and there.  Before breakfast.  After nap.  The kids would see me wandering around – hammer in hand, nail in mouth, star in other hand.

I’d hold up a blue star against a yellow wall.  A red star for our bedroom.  Five matching stars mounted in a row on the bathroom door.  Two stars for the front porch.  A barbed wire star in the kitchen.

Hammer.  Hammer.

This has been going on for the entire month of January.  All of February.

Until yesterday.

Until yesterday, I tell you.

That’s a long time to unload one little basket of stars.

But that’s the way time travels around this house.

Yesterday I ripped a piece of red burlap, strung a star on it, hung it from the ceiling of our bedroom and declared myself free.

Free.

Free of the burden of unpacking a basket of stars.

Free from the deal I made with myself.

Free to create and craft and paint and recycle and reuse and re-purpose.

Free.

And now all I have to do is find the time for all those ideas I’ve been stockpiling.