the grocery store is its own particular type of torture.
i must be thankful for the resources to be there, the choices, the strength in my legs to walk the aisles, to push the cart. i know. i must be.
but when you’ve done something a few hundred times it loses that certain something and just becomes a meditation for the pointless and monotony of life.
or maybe that’s just me.
also packing lunches.
also making beds.
also cleaning toilets.
also also also.
it’s a brave new world for me these days. we moved so i didn’t have to spend hours in a car everyday. now each day stretches before me full of monotonous crap that i don’t want to do.
but what do i want to do?
i take eleanor to school this morning. she’s amazing. she’s so lovely and loving. she’s like a mountain of birthday presents on my head. i’m so lucky. i tell her so.
she smiles her very pleased smile.
i’ll pick her up at 3.
i’ve spent these past fourteen years raising three children. that time is changing. it’s morphing into them on their own and me on my own. the rope that ties us together is getting longer. that’s okay. it really is. but what’s not okay is me filling up the hours with something that doesn’t support this family.
i shop because they eat. daily.
clean dishes on the table. clean clothes pulled out for yet another day of school. lunch on the counter for when they are off on their own. a made bed is so much nicer. clean house gives peace to the mind. a home to come home to.
i do that.
my life is not pointless.
monotonous yes, pointless no.
it takes discipline to remember your worth when no one is watching. the time will come when my days are spent busy supporting something else well.
but for today there is laundry, there are dishes, there is shopping.
thanks mom. thanks again.