Sitting at a messy table in a room that smells like two-month-old Christmas tree (which stands in the corner pondering why it is still in one piece), I take a deep breath and feel happy to be home. The past ten days out west have been filled to the brim with family time— the longest concentration of hanging out that I’ve done for as long as I can remember. I’m grateful we had the time to visit almost everyone in Zach’s family without feeling too rushed.
Now I return to normal life, where the work I didn’t carry with me— laundry, dishes, freelancing, cooking, being a housewife— resumes at the pace it moved before. I believe it was Mother Teresa who said, “Do you want to be great? Pick up a broom and sweep the floor.” That’s what I’m going to go do now.
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