The sun is bright, too bright off the snow that Mother Nature dumped on us last week. It shows every speck of dirt on the rugs, every crumb left on the table and floor. It shows all the stacks of papers and books and boots and mittens that aren’t in their place. It shows my failings too easily.
The kitchen floor has Thomas trains mixed in with hats and mittens and scraps of food that didn’t make it to the trash can last night. The living room has car mats and library books and my son’s socks from yesterday. I look at it all, and it overwhelms me. I know I should take it one room at a time and clean it bit by bit, but I have two five year olds who trail behind me and fill in the clean with more trains and books and crayons (mostly broken) and coloring books and it just means I have to do it all over again. It’s a never-ending cycle.
The cat food dishes are overflowing onto the floor and the boots on the mat aren’t really on the mat at all. The bright sunshine illuminates it all, reminds me of all I have to do. Some days it causes me to retreat and ignore, and others, like today, I will start with the trains and find the order in the chaos.