Weeks of a child's health issue. Lesson prep for a new class. Lesson prep for Lanie. Yard. Home. Laundry. Shopping. VBS. Doctors. Rehearsals and recital. The Father's Day stuff. And a group gathering I thought I could handle just before a viewing and cakes to bake. I was cutting the grass fifteen minutes before they arrived.
I found I asked the same question to a friend at least four times. And when another friend texted about attending the viewing, I suggested we ride together. But when she replied later of extra in the car, I frayed.
I held my arms out balancing trays full of responsibility, and a daily onslaught of forward motion knocked them from my grasp. I watched it all fall.
This week--a specialist. A hospital. A yard to cut and food to buy. Recovery. Books to read and classes to prepare. Laundry. Shopping. More. This time machine keeps moving.
I grabbed a rag and wet it down in vinegar water, I got one for Lanie too, and together we started scrubbing baseboards. And then we wiped down cabinets and de-webbed the corners. It bonds us. We did the whole main level.
At the other house, I remembered therapy by fours. The little white 4x4 tiles on the bathroom floor and how I scrubbed them the summer we prepped to sell. How I prayed and cried and scrubbed and let the white clean soothe me.
Who am I in the midst of chaos? And who do I want to be? It humbles me.
I hunker down and time's forward motion pulls me.
The baseboards gleam and the laundry room's grays and whites are calming. I'm grateful for the very little things, the clean and order of one small space.