One Day
One day I will have a clean couch to sit upon---one that does not have three piles of laundry on it or a cushion missing because it is sitting out in the sun to disinfect pee. Maybe one day I will have furniture that does not have crayon marks, vomit stains or missing hardware. One day I will have a bed that only my husband and I share; not one with a child kicking me in the back and another on top of my husband. One day bed time will actually mean I go to bed. I won't have to listen to children crying that they need water or need to pee one more time or are scared by themselves. I won't have to sit in the hallway making the threat, “Go to sleep or else!” Perhaps one day I won't have to run the dishwasher twice a day or the washing machine every day. Maybe I will enjoy my dinner that I prepare without hearing complaints of it being yucky. I imagine the day will come that I can actually garden, write, read, take long baths and just be still.
I long for these days. Then I remember that when that day comes, there will be three fewer people filling our home. I won't hear giggling in the bubble baths. I won't cheer for my son playing baseball or see my daughter jumping on the trampoline with her little sister. There will be no more pushing swings, girlfriend sleepovers, or kissing boo-boos. I won't see the joy on their faces Christmas morning. I won't be able to look at their faces as they sleep or kiss them goodnight.
So, I try to live in this moment. I try to remember that one day is not too far
away.
enough