On leaving room for things

There’s a corner of the room I haven’t decided what to do with. For a while this felt like a problem to solve. Lately, I’ve been thinking it might be the best part of the room.

Every other bit has an assignment. The desk is for working, the shelf is for the books I’ve read and the books I like to imagine I’ll read. Even the windowsill has become a place to keep plants alive, with mixed results.

But the corner is just a corner. Light moves through it in the afternoon. Sometimes a bag ends up there. Sometimes nothing does.

I keep catching myself making plans for it. A chair, perhaps. A lamp. Something that would make the room look finished in a photograph.

I wonder how much of what I call unfinished is simply space I haven’t filled yet.

There’s probably a thought here about time, too. About an afternoon without a list. I’m going to leave that part open.