Stumbling into the day, I close the half-opened linen closet on my way down the hall to the kitchen. Before starting my morning ritual, I wipe down the counters. Greasy streaks snake across the countertops, evidence of my husband’s effort to clean up the kitchen the night before. I close cupboard doors, pick up trash that didn’t quite make it into the trash can, and run the garbage disposal. I put my husband’s shoes in the entry closet. I reflect on my husband’s inability to do things “right”; that, of course, means my way. I then think about the alternative.
Sandra Hudson is a retired nurse with a love of reading, writing, and travel. Her family is her center and art feeds her soul!