Daily Bread

 

 "The best things are nearest: breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of God just before you. Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things of life." 

— Robert Louis Stevenson

The laundry is tumbling in the dryer- his just-washed uniform, her little pink nightgown with the teddy bear print, and baby pajamas that still have breakfast stains down the front. The scent of cooling cherry bars on the stovetop circles around our apartment, mingling with the chilly breeze blowing through the screen door. The little ones are asleep. He is at drill.

And about five hundred times in the moments between waking and closing my eyes again, I look around at this house. At the Legos covering every inch of our living room floor. At the dishes I need to wash by hand. At the grocery list that needs to be written, and the beds that need to be made, too. At the bits of cereal still stuck to his tiny cheek, or the hair clip that threatens to fall from her hair. So much to do every day. All of it undone.

Five hundred times, I look at it all, and want to forget about it for a little while. Five hundred sighs.

And five hundred times more, I whisper a 'thank you' underneath my breath, raising my hands in thankfulness that these tasks were meant for me.