Proof of Life

[nevergiveup]

Proof of Life

Try as she might, her house was never clean. At least not as clean as she thought it should be. If company was expected, there was always a mad turbulence of activity: floors were quickly gone over, seats were cleared, and obvious surfaces dusted. The bathroom was made to be spotless because she remembered what it was like to visit her aging mother and not be able to sit on the toilet due to all the dog hair stuck to it. There were strict instructions not to use the newly cleaned bathroom—it was clean for company—and they were followed by a list of dire consequences should one forget, not a problem since her kids were boys and they preferred to pee behind the barn anyway.

One day, after having to move a greasy hydraulic part from her kitchen counter in order to make dinner, she got fed up and went to visit a friend. This friend had children who were grown and out of the house and her husband still had a good job that he disappeared to every day. She entered her friend’s house, careful to remove her shoes at the door. She was embarrassed that her white athletic socks were not quite as white as the carpet and tried to stretch her jeans down to cover them. They sat around an impeccably refinished antique table and ate plum cake and drank cup after cup of English tea while trading stories about life and life after kids. She breathed in deeply, appreciating the fresh scent of the flowers on the table. Her probing eyes approved of the fact that everything was in its place and there was no dirt, no unfinished project lying around, no shoes to trip over, no pet hair or dog nose smudges on the windows. But, as could be predicted after all that tea, she eventually had to use the bathroom. Bladder emptied, she carefully wiped down the toilet with tissue in order to leave no trace behind, then could not decide what to do with the tissue so she stuffed it into her pocket. After washing her hands, she, again undecided, wiped them on her jeans so she would not spoil the towel hanging nearby. As she said goodbye to her friend, she could not help thinking that something had been missing.

Back home she was greeted by her three big dogs, one jumping into her truck as she opened the door and another putting his muddy paws right into the middle of her chest. Once in the house, she noticed that someone had finished the dinner, but the stack of dirty dishes was waiting in the sink. The greasy hydraulic part had been joined by another equally greasy part that she did not recognize. She sighed and eased into an old rocking chair. As the rocking chair creaked back and forth, she felt strangely content. She had figured out what was missing at her friend’s house.

Proof of life.

Her friend’s house was stagnant, no evidence anyone lived there, sterile. If a spotless house meant that the ones you love are not there, then she wanted no part of it. She would tolerate the mess as long as there were kids, pets, husband around to make it. But, she might still make the kids pee behind the barn if they couldn’t at least learn to lift the seat.

[Excelsior! Academy]

Definitely needed that today! Thank you.

[celticmom]

I like that!

[nevergiveup]

Thanks! Sorry the print is so small.

[fraidycat]

Well, there's plenty "proof of life" at my house, then. Probably even more than I want, if I were to check in the back of the fridge. ;)