"I don't have any idea where all my time goes," I tell her, shaking my head. My shoulders scoot towards my ears, and I look around the kitchen. A basket of harvest decorations is overflowing on the dining table. Miniature gourds and pumpkins spill from the sides where Mia and Lauren left it all last night. I didn't have the heart to stop them from 'decorating' for Landon's party this weekend. Or maybe I didn't have the energy.
"I mean, what do I do all day? It feels like I get nothing done, and still, I'm scrambling." I say it like she doesn't understand.
She leans against the counter with a secret, indulgent smile.
If I could burrow deep into her thoughts, I know they'd be thick and warm right now. But I would also feel the memory of her baby-raising years, pulling at her like sandbags on ropes that chafe across her shoulders. If I paid attention, I might hear the clanging of pots and pans banged against the floor by my toddler-self or the rush of a shopping cart's rickety wheels through a grocery store while she hastily fills a cart before the kids start crying. I would be filled with joy and dueling dismay at the thought of so many mothering years ahead.
She doesn't say anything. In the blur of background that is my house on a school morning, I look into her eyes, the same color as my own, and I see it all there. Blue-grey and simple, honest and happy: there's nothing new under the sun, she says.
But she says it wordlessly, and I hear it soul-deep.
And despite the fact that she hasn't told me the secret of how to solve the problem, my mom has shown me the truth. There is nothing new under the sun.
It makes the day easier, somehow.
Every Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional
living by capturing a glimpse of the Bigger Picture
through a simple moment. Join the Bigger Picture Community at
Jade's place today! Reflect upon something simple — or simply magical — that’s
resonated with you this week, then share it with us!