It seems as though I dance through my days more often than I realize.
A few nights ago, in the middle of angry words and hurt feelings, my husband and I cleaned the kitchen together.
Our little kitchen is barely wide enough for us to stand side by side in;
yet, we somehow stepped around each other without bumping, without being in each other’s way.
I unloaded the dishwasher and he scrubbed counters,
and we moved with grace….
but spoke without it.
When the counters were clean and the sink was empty,
I was amazed at how seamlessly we did that…
How could we argue so harshly, so hurtfully;
but clean a kitchen together so well…
Today, when Austin came home from school, the house was fairly clean.
In the time it took us to do homework, eat dinner, and play before bed,
it was all a disaster again.
We had a plan- David would tuck the boys into bed and I’d start cleaning…
The boys had a different plan- they wanted me.
So I stopped cleaning, and tucked them.
David and I danced through the living room picking up toys,
and clearing the dinner table, and returning a stray child to his bed,
and back to the living room to fish trains from underneath the table….
and back to the bed rooms to quiet and comfort little boys…
and back to the kitchen to wipe counters…
and back to the hallway to warn a child to settle under the covers….
And we did this dance in and out of their rooms, into the living room, into the kitchen,
moving around each other, and turning together…
without even really knowing that we’re doing it…
But we are.
We’re doing this.
I hope it lasts forever.