Washed Away

We had a slow Sunday. Slept in, eventually found the coffee.

We took up the same space but held it differently. It was midday when we discovered a few inches of water covering our basement floor. Clothes and cardboard drowned in last night's storms. In a moment, we held a different space in the same way; strained, frustrated, action-mode. This wasn't the "getting on the water as soon as we can" we had planned for today. But the Universe showed up – or rather demanded we pay attention – forcing us to look at our life. All that we have, how easily it can be swept away in the darkness of night while we sleep.

We made the best of the clean-up, smiled at each other in between dragging wet piles of carpet up the stairs and drying cement floors.

This is our mess, let's tackle it together.

As the fan whirred and the last of the carpet sat in a defeated pile on the lawn, I looked out from our stoop as a heap of exhaustion and thought, "Thank you for saving what we need and clearing out what we don't."