Today is Friday. It's cleaning day. Just like most Fridays are. We blast music and then we pick up and put away. We sweep, vacuum, mop, dust, and clean bathrooms. Everyone pitches in until the house is clean. Once a week I am guaranteed at least a few hours with a clean house.
Today when I started vacuuming my third room, I started thinking about how much cleaning I had been doing that morning and how good I still felt. Memories of trying to clean during cancer treatments started flooding over me. I remember it was literally exhausting to dump a load of laundry into the wash. I had to sit down on the laundry room floor for a few minutes after starting a load. It took an incredible amount of effort to wipe down a kitchen countertop. I remember crying as I tried to pick up toys off the floor and put them away. I don't have any memories of vacuuming so I probably altogether abandoned that during those months. (We were so blessed when someone gifted us a house cleaner for the last couple of months of my chemo treatments. I am forever grateful for that.)
As these memories poured in, I was so happy that today there I was cleaning my floors. It's exactly what I wanted to be doing. What an amazing thing to get to do! I felt well enough to mop floors after that. And help Brinna pick up her toys in her room. Oh, how lucky am I to be strong enough to do all of those things today!!
Each day is a gift and the ability to clean is incredible.
(One day I hope my kids fondly remember cleaning days.)
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