Monday, July 20, 2009

The Kitchen Floor

I mopped the kitchen floor earlier this morning and a minute ago, stepping through the kitchen to go out the back door to pick up some clothes I had laid across the deck railing to dry in the sun, I noticed that the floor has not yet dried.

I stood there and looked at the damp spots for a minute.

The night after our son died, I did not go to sleep. I lay down on our bed at about 2:00 a.m., and at about 5:00 I decided that I had pretended long enough that sleep was a possibility. I went down to the kitchen, looked at the filthy floor, and thought about all the people who were about to show up. It's a large kitchen, so I pushed the table and chairs aside and mopped the half on the sink and refrigerator side.

It was so humid that the floor wouldn't dry, and when my brother came down half an hour later and went to get some juice, he left huge and grimy wet footprints across the mopped half of the room.

I looked at his footprints and thought, Why on earth would anyone in the world care about a kitchen floor?

I didn't bother to re-wash it, or to do the other half.

It's a beautiful day today. So sunny that I can dry hand wash outside, and so breezy that I can do a little house and yard work comfortably.

Who knew that a damp kitchen floor could carry so much weight?

2 comments:

Karen and Joe said...

The stunning shock of those first 24 hours...that first week. How my heart breaks for you. Floors and death, how can they exist in the same world? How does the mundane and the unbearably profound reside on the same planet? How does life even go on after loss? Once again, I affirm your faith, courage and strength and wrap it in a huge hug.

Rev SS said...

mundane & unbearably profound residing side by side = surreal ... I join Karen in affirmation and hug

(word verification: bless)