She growled as her blood pressure rose.

     After peeling off her soggy socks, she stomped around the corner and into the brightly lit artist's studio.  Large canvas's lay in disarray around the room, some complete, some half-done and some blank.  The room was cluttered: nude statues, a bowl of fruit, various paint palettes, dirty, used artist's cloths and colorfully stained jackets.

     A dark haired woman with a red bandanna around her head and a smudge of white paint across her cheek sat upon a stool staring intensely at the canvas before her.  When she heard Tracy enter, she turned and smiled.

     "Hi honey!  Come here, I want you to see what I've…" was the cheerful greeting that Tracy interrupted.

     "Can't you at least make sure not to leave your wet clothes on the carpet?!  There's a wet spot there now."  Tracy held up the wet socks.  Exhibit A.

     Marcia looked at her and froze.

    "Oh sweetie, heck.  I'm sorry.  I didn't…  I mean, I didn't ummm… I'm sorry."  Her voice trailed off.

     "Sorry?  Yea, sorry again Marsh."  Tracy's voice, full of sarcasm sliced the air.

     "How many times do we have to go over this?  Why do you insist on leaving things on the floor and lying around?  Can't you at least pick up after yourself?  What am I?  Your personal maid?"

     Marcia put her paintbrush down and stared at the floor.

     "No baby, I just didn't think, I dunno, I just wasn't thinking I guess. I'm sorry."

     The canvas in front of her was full of painted wintered trees pregnant with snow yet misplaced fresh, multi-colored fruit hung from the limbs.  It was an odd sight.  Tracy figured it must be symbolic of something but as usual, wasn't sure of what.  Nor at this moment, did she care.  Right now her blood pressure was high and her patience air-thin.

     "Marcia," she vented, "I'm tired of discussing this with you.  When I come home from a long, tough day at work the last thing I want to do is to pick up after you!  Can't you at least put your things where they belong?  If you think I'm going to put up with living with a pigpen person for much longer, then you better think again."

     The pressure had built in her neck; her heart pounded loud and strong.  She felt her eyebrows bearing down and center but was helpless to control it.  Soon she'd have a headache.

     "I don't get it.  Why do you have to be so messy?  Don't you care?"  She continued the barrage.

     "Relax Tracy, I said I was sorry!" Marcia defended.  "Jesus, what crawled up your butt and died?  I mean it's not like I did it on purpose."  She swiveled on her stool and stared out the window toward the trees that were silently being blanketed by snow.

     Tracy looked at her and was about to continue the lecture when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned and there a woman stood, just inches from her.  A woman who looked remarkably like Whoopie Goldberg.

     Tracy immediately thought three things.  First, she thought that she's been watching too much TV lately.  Second, she thought that she had had too much too drink.  Third, she thought that she'd not had a drink in five years.

     "Ahhhh..." was all that she was able to mumble, her mouth making slow "O's" like a goldfish.

     The woman smiled, a warm loving smile.

     "Relax honey."

     "Relax?"  Tracy repeated.  "And who, might I ask, are you?"

     The woman's smile broadened as she explained, "I'm an angel."

     Tracy turned and looked at Marcia who continued to stare out the window, apparently oblivious to what was going on.

     "An angel?"  Tracy repeated.

     "That's right, an angel."

     "And you are here because…"

     "I am here because you need me to be."

     "Like Hell I do," Tracy thought. 

     The angel leaned back upon one of the tables.

     "Yes, you do," she whispered.

     "Oh shit," Tracy thought, "she can read my thoughts."

     The woman smiled and nodded.

     "Yes, I can."

     "Listen honey, just trust me, you need me, right here and right now, just trust me.  You need to learn the greatest secret."

     Tracy blinked hard.  Looked around the room.  Still the woman remained.

     "And that would be?"

     "Look at her," the woman pointed to Marcia, "what do you see?"

     Tracy turned her head and looked at her lover.  Marcia continued to stare out toward the trees. "I see Marcia."

     "No, what do you really see."

     "I see Marcia, my partner."

     "No, no… Ok, let's try this.  What are you feeling right now?

     Tracy thought for a moment. 

     "I'm well, confused."

     The woman laughed, "You'll get over that.  What else?"

     "I'm feeling frustrated and angry at her.  She's so messy.  I can't stand it anymore."

     "Ok," said the woman.   Her smile never faltered, it warmly hugged her face.

     "Listen to me," she continued, Tracy turned and looked at her.

     "You have been pushing her with anger, with criticism, with your frustration.  You are pushing her away from you.  That woman is a beautiful spirit and you are pushing her away from you.  What you need to do is to pull her to you instead."

     "What do you mean, but how?" Tracy asked. 

     The woman had her hypnotized.

     "Come here."  The woman motioned for Tracy to come closer.

     Tracy walked toward her and when she was inches away felt a soft warmth the likes of which she'd never felt before.  It made her glow and a flush rise within her.  And there was a smell.  The woman emitted a sweet, gentle fragrance; Tracy wanted to breathe it deep into her soul.  The woman leaned closer to her and whispered into her ear.

     "Love."

     Tracy paused.

     "Love?"

     "Yes.  Love."  The woman's smile grew bigger and brighter, her lips pulling back to expose two rows of toothpaste commercial, perfect, pearly white teeth. 

     "Instead of pushing her away, pull her closer and love is the way to do it.  THAT is the greatest secret of the universe."

      Tracy looked at Marcia.

     "OK, now, what do you see?" the woman asked again.  "Let me help.  See the first time you laid eyes upon her."

     Tracy looked at Marcia and suddenly it was like the first time again.  She remembered the love she had felt the first time their eyes had met.  Marcia's beautiful eyes, her effervescent smile, her vivacious personality.  Tracy felt that familiar tingle stir inside.  Suddenly it was as if it were the first time again.

     The woman nodded.

     "Now, see her as you did on Christmas Eve."

     Tracy's mind flashed back to Christmas Eve.  They were sitting in front of the fireplace, holding each other after exchanging gifts, talking about their hopes and dreams.  They'd never been closer.  Marcia's touch that night had been so soft, tender, warm.  They'd made love and it'd been unlike any other time.  It had been magical.  They'd both cried at the incredible and intense beauty of it.  Her eyes began to mist up.  A lump started to choke the base of her throat.

     "Yes," said the woman, "That's good.  Now, see her as a child.  Look at her."

     Tracy looked and miraculously she saw Marcia as a young girl.  She was probably about 8 years old and was sitting at a table painting.  There was paper and paint everywhere.  In the room were her three siblings; two were happily playing together on the floor with building blocks making a castle, one was off to the side practicing magic tricks on a self-made stage.  There were trucks, dolls, pots, pans, boxes, blocks, crayons scattered all over the floor.  A woman, apparently Marcia's mother, maternally clucked around all the children jovially laughing and encouraging them.   The children giggled and laughed at and with each other.  Tracy was mesmerized by the feeling of happiness and love that emulated from the scene. 

     "Now can you see why clutter doesn't bother her?"  The woman's voice startled Tracy. 

     Tracy nodded.

     "That's where she gets her creativity from.  That's why she doesn't even notice clutter around her.  She truly is oblivious to it."

     Tracy thought back to her own, only-child childhood; the clinically clean home that her mother had insisted remain spotless.  "Everything has a place and everything in its place," she'd chant.

     "Now," the woman softly said, "look at her with love."

      And suddenly Tracy saw Marcia in a way she'd never seen her before.  She saw love.  She felt love.  She knew love.  No longer could she hold back the tears, they spilled from the insides and corners of her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.  She felt warm inside.  Her heart felt warm.  She felt as if a white, warm glow flowed from her. 

      "Now," the woman stood up, stopped leaning back against the table and placed her hand upon Tracy's shoulder.  "Now, my dear, you know love.  Now you know the greatest secret of the universe."

     Tracy's eyes never left Marcia and yet she knew the woman was gone.

     Marcia began to speak, "Tracy, listen, I said I was sorry, I'll pick up the damn gloves…"

     Tracy interrupted her and tenderly placed her hand upon one of Marcia's hands, "Shhh. Stop.  Marcia, I love you."

     Marcia looked at Tracy, a questioning look covered her face when she saw the tears, "I know but…"

     "No, no buts.  Marcia, I love you."  She wrapped her arms around her and pulled Marcia tightly into her.

     Marcia paused and tensed, still unsure of the sudden change, but soon gave in, relaxed and returned the hug.

     "Oh Trace.  I'm so sorry, I really don't mean to annoy you.  I love you honey."

     "I know baby.  I love you too, more than you'll ever know."

     They stared, unblinking, into each other's eyes, Tracy spoke first.

     "Listen sweetie, let's make a deal.  If you promise to try to be neater because you love me and know the clutter bothers me, then I promise to try not to nag you because I love you and I know that only annoys you.  How does that sound."

     Marcia nodded.  "I promise," she whispered.

     "Honey, there's nothing we can't work out together if we just remember that we love each other." Tracy said.

     "I know, you're right.  I'm sorry that I forgot that Trace."

     "We won't ever forget again, OK?"

     Marcia nodded.

     "Ok, great."  Tracy smiled.  "Now, what do you say we get dressed up in our hats, boots, scarves and mittens and go play in the snow.  I want to make snow angels."