My dear mother managed to reel me into the mandatory pre-christmas cleaning
Which drives me wildly insane
Rearranging cutlery and scouring the sink is not my ideal way of spending a Wednesday morning
I could think of worse things to have been engaged in
but this wretched activity is way up there.

In all honesty my mother's (bless her) kitchen qualifies to be on an episode of Hoarders

Depleted from obsessively dusting off countertops
I sat down sipping my green tea
Watching her take on the rearranging of the pots in the dreaded corner cupboard
Chucking out the old
Indecisive when it came to some
When the job was done
The space left was aplenty
Seeing the rusted pots and charred pans to be thrown in the trash
Then it hit me
If one harbours filth, negativity or the past
Newer and better things have no space to make their way into and settle in one's life
Re-birthing is only possible if one completely purges that which deters them from metamorphosising.