All by myself...

There are days when I truly believe that I am done.  I am 100 % sure that I cannot get up another day and face the debris and clutter that epitomizes my life.  I honestly don’t know where this stuff comes from.  It seems to multiply while I sleep. The number of lone socks lying forlorn amidst the dust and tufts of dog hair adds up to more feet than we actually have living in our house!  No matter how hard, how diligently or how fast I work, I cannot keep up.  Moreover, no one else even seems to notice.

On one of those days, right in the middle of my personal pity-party, my daughter Laurèn walked into the kitchen.  I was frantically fumbling with the tasks of cleaning up, putting away, and organizing our stuff – while muttering incoherently to myself. 

“Mom… I want to tell you something,” Laurèn said.

“Ohh?” I replied.

“It’s just that you work so hard around here, and I just want you to know that I really appreciate it.”  (she gave me a big hug)

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes misting up – they do notice, I thought.

Laurèn continued, “I keep thinking that I should help you, but then I realize I don’t like it, and I give up on it.”

Off she went, without a care in the world – and without socks, I couldn’t help but notice.