Yesterday was an extremely long day, but at least I was privileged to get a happy call from my Mother telling me the flowers were beautiful. I guiltily knew I should have bought blue or green or something as I listened to her, but those one-eight-hundred flowers women have always been the nicest and most competent customer service folks I have ever dealt with. It means a lot to me. Oh well, room for growth, right?
I made sure I shaved when I got cleaned up, emptied the dishwasher and put in the breakfast dishes, took out the trash and the recycling, put things away, took off the sheets’n put them through the machines, moved all the furniture when I vacuumed the entire house, and deep-cleaned the bathroom with the foam on the glass, bleach and abrasive scrub with an ammonia finish on the toilet.
After this I mow the lawns, get the sheets on the bed and go shopping for some mod-this-century Santa Cruz food, Chinese chicken salad stuff with ingredients I won’t be able to find at Safeway (I know, over-due blue growth there). Sweep the lot, wash a car or windows, cook, do the dishes.
I don’t want to be a drama queen about it an’ all, but I’m pretty sure it’s fair to say my Mom saved my Dad’s life, and mine. It’s not about some specific thing at all, it’s just her labor and spiritual presence that did it over the years.
It’s no wondrous thing, either, I’m positive if I ever talked to her about it she’d tell me her time on earth would have been a lot better without her self-destruction prevention efforts in the story of our family. Yeah.
So today is a day to sling up the vacuum, keeping your mouth shut as you scrub, cleaning and serving the house without fuss. I think about what my momma taught me as I do it. It’s a habit I wised up to a long time ago, it’s something I gotta do on Saturday Mother’s Day weekend. I don’t mind.