I stride through the house, pile of misplaced life in my hands. The evening pick up has begun. Again.
A half filled, half forgotten cup of milk catches my eye by the corner of the couch. Sighing. I drop my bundle and march to the stairs to call my girl who is happily drawing mermaids in her room with her sister. I am not a maid.
“Why is there a half drunk cup of milk on the floor by the couch?” My furrowed eyebrows and stern tone contain more than the question.
Embarassed, saddened by her mama’s wrath, she squeezes by me mumbling ,” I forgot again. I’ll get it now.”
An hour later, house picked up, night time snuggles begin. Scratching her warm back, He nudges me into asking forgiveness and sharing stories of all the things I forget to put away, daily. And of stories from my childhood of hiding snack wrappers and dirty dishes under the couch or behind the big box TV while watching Saturday morning cartoons. I whisper I love yous again and again until she rolls her eyes at me and, smiling, groans, “Mom, I know.”
Joining Lisa Jo and other word lovers in this 5-minute writing exercise, come join us! Today’s word: again.