Thankful Thursday: Stains and Stench
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?
Reader Comments (2)
I'm reading this at the Crest Motel in Astoria--which you described perfectly--although the bathroom looks clean. But the clientele in big trucks and big voices were my neighbors for the night and they are revving their trucks as I write. The tiny TV gets only some of the channels and has to be aimed at the remote just right. On the other hand, the view of the river and ships is spectacular from our sliding glass door to the grassy common area--and I would stay here again! Happy travels, dear Drew!
Jeanne, I love it! Thank goodness for bad motels.