I discovered a new mark on the wall, minutes after remembering that the cabinet door was severed from its hinges by the weight of a child who had used it as a stepping stool. Another thing I had not yet added to my honey-do list.
My mind dove from a visionary focus to the limping cabinet and the new wall mark, not to mention the tiny scraps of paper embedded in the carpet threads from yesterday’s craft project.
I instantly flashed back to the pristine home we’d kept for nearly eight years before it was infiltrated by rubber duckies and dolls and fingerprints. What would the me who lived in that house think of this life now?
My mind roiled.
Nate and I once climbed into bed each night with lights dimmed by choice and not to hide the dust. We lived quietly.
I love quiet. [Continue reading over here —>]
