Day 67 of coronavirus in France
Day 16 of enforced confinement
Today we woke up and my seven-year-old was convinced we needed to move all of the furniture around. At first I didn’t get it. I like my furniture where it is. And my hubby’s response was a flat, absolutely not.
But there’s something in my coaching blood that was urging me to remember that we are grieving a thousand losses. And one of my most overused catchphrases is, Everyone grieves differently.
You can imagine the classic scenario that takes place after every death. Without fail there is a loved one that wants to bake the deceased’s favorite food at every family gathering while another loved one can’t stand the sight of it. Conflict ensues. Grief is not linear, and everyone follows a different trajectory.
My daughter was adamant. Maybe this is something she just needs to do.
My hubby and I were bumping elbows in our narrow French kitchen again when she came in to plead her case, again. I may have mentioned something to hubby about how she is grieving: Could this be a stage of acceptance? The real epiphany was his: She’s trapped in a box; this is her only hope of seeing new scenery.
If you look at furniture rearranging as a form of “movement-based creative expression,” which may be a bit of a stretch but stay with me here, studies show that it can be beneficial to one’s self-esteem and “psychological well-being.”
So go move some furniture today and travel to a new place without leaving your home.