I cleaned the sink today.

Dishes had piled up over the last couple of days as I stationed myself on the couch to fight off my allergies. But today, I finally had the energy to tackle the sink while a batch of meatloaf baked in the oven.

On my last trip to the grocery store I’d been a bit desperate – telling my mom that I wanted real food. When she asked what that was, I had no answer for her, other than not salad, rice, potatoes, or chicken.

So I bought a ham, some avocados, and a jar of pickles. Then I found a bottle of honey-sweetened ketchup. That gave me the idea. Another search gained me a bucket of gluten free breadcrumbs, and today I made meatloaf. Real food.

This is what I wrote while I waited for it to bake:

 

The sink is clean again.

Somehow, that makes life feel simpler.

     Controllable.

     Manageable.      

 

Doing daily dishes seems easy right now.

I’ve got this…

 

But I know life ebbs and flows.

     Waxes and wanes.

The sink will fill and overflow again.

     Life will be exhausting again.

 

Some days I will dance on my tiptoes

almost floating in my happiness,

and some days I will crash to the ground inconsolable

as I crawl into my cave.

 

Somedays I will taste hope and joy

as I look at the friends around me.

Sometimes my heart will skip a beat in excitement

     at a whispered endearment

     or a wide-eyed promise.

 

But sometimes my heart will stop

as a cold horrid lump forms in my core

and my skin grows damp and cold

at the dark shocks of life and death.

 

The ups that make the downs endurable.

The downs that make the ups beautiful.

 

And throughout it all

     You

My rock. My center.

My promise. My hope.

My purpose.

My reason.

My joy.

My beginning and my end.

 

I could hide from the scary tomorrow

or run to the beautiful moments to come.

I could cower broken

at the memory of the horrid yesterday

or dance in pride of you

and what we’ve overcome.

 

Or I can simply focus on today

     on right now

     on just here

 

It’s not perfect,

but it’s not bad.

 

The cats are purring.

The sink is clean.

And the meatloaf is ready to come out of the oven.

Thank You,

for a beautiful right now.