i don't feel the break, but i feel the bend

I find it interesting, or perhaps perplexing better describes it, how our perspective can dictate exactly what we see.

As I stare at the floor I can see where the hardwood meets the wall. It is flush, strait.... perfect. Well, for the most part. As my eyes trace the line it makes with the wall, running horizontally along my living room, I see a gap. It starts ever so small, like a poorly timed smile you dare not let escape for fear of reprimand. And not unlike that smile, it widens in the center, and tapers near the other end.

As I sit, staring at the smile in my floor, I try to decide whether it's the floor that has strayed from the strait and narrow, or if it is the wall which has warped with time. I decide it is the wall which is flawed, then, I rescind this assertion and call the floor a poor excuse for a level surface.

And then the argument begins again, and again.

I peer at a shadow, and call the floor crooked.... I inspect the light reflecting from the wooden floorboards and name the wall the culprit.

Though I know not who is at fault, I know that something displeases me. I wish for a more put-together seam.

I cannot decide who is to blame. I cannot blame the floor if it has bent with age... and I cannot blame the wall if it has curved with time. It would only be their natural reaction to a stress applied. One, or both, had to react in some way to the pressure of time, age, weather, hurt and consequence.

To blame an inanimate object for a less than desirable reaction to stress, I decide, is at least equally unfair as to blame an inherently flawed person for a similar bend.

No matter who is to blame, (if anyone at all), at least the bend creates a smile.

So, I lean back, release my held breath into a sigh, and let it all go.