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What Brought Me Home

I found the floors in my house today!  


No, I'm not remodeling the floors.  We just cleaned up and vacuumed.  It's funny how much an afternoon of cleaning can affect you.  I began the afternoon completely anxious, upset, and honestly...mean.  Very mean.  I was overwhelmed and felt like throwing a temper tantrum on the floor - which would have been impressive since this was before I found it.

But I don't wanna clean the house!!
As I started cleaning, the transformation was marvelous.  As the house transformed, so did my mood.  I went from tantrum to dancing.

Many people comment on the fact that a messy house makes them feel depressed, in a bad mood, etc.  However, I think it was something else that made my heart so light - or rather, someone.  So I would like to express my public thanks to...

My Husband

There are so many things I could say about my husband.  I love bragging on him.  He deserves so much more credit than I give him, but for the sake of time, I'm just going to share with you how he affected our home today.

The Comfort

Before we did anything about the house, my husband simply held me.  He talked to me in a soothing voice, let me cry on his shoulder without asking questions, and helped me get to my happy place.  "Close your eyes and go to the beach," he said.

This man knows me better than I know myself.  He knew I just needed to escape for a moment, so he helped me feel like I was right there on the sand, feeling the wind in my face and tasting the salt on my lips.  My illogical angst didn't phase him; he just patiently calmed me and loved me.

The Cleaning

I grew up in an environment where household chores was women's work.  The man's job was to earn a living outside the home and not have to lift a finger once he walked back through the door.  Imagine my surprise when I got married to a man expecting to share equally in the housework!  Almost two years later, his humility and helpfulness in this area continues to be a novelty and refreshing relief to me.

Today, he did the dishes, swept and mopped, took out the trash, DISINFECTED THE TRASH CAN, and helped clean the bedroom.  While I was working on the other half of our massive amount of mess, we sang along to country music together.  We laughed and talked.  I began dancing around and instead of rolling his eyes, he smiled.

The Cooking

The waterworks did not dry up for good after the house got clean, but for a different reason than before.  I couldn't help but shedding a few happy tears when he pulled out the pork from the freezer and began cooking supper.  For starters, how can you not love a man who cooks you any form of pig!?!?  But when we exercised our creativity together, coming up with the perfect sauce to fit our mood, I relished the intimacy and joy we shared simply trying different flavors together.

Finally Home

I woke up this morning living in an apartment that felt more like a storage unit filled with the odors of slightly rotten potatoes and a litter box that needed changing.  Lonely and downtrodden, I didn't even know where to begin making things better.  The day ended in a clean and welcoming set of rooms filled with the warm glow of freshly scented candles.  But all that wouldn't have mattered without my husband.

The love and patience while the house was still messy.  The humility and service, pausing work to make me a cup of tea, going the extra mile even after the place looked "decent."  That created the home.

The intimacy we shared today perhaps didn't look like it from the outside, but it simultaneously soothed and exhilarated my heart.  He changed into his white Polo shirt because he knew it was one of my favorites.  I touched him on the shoulder to make him feel connected to me.  He fried up the pig.  I set the table.  We sang.  We laughed.  We sat in silence and listed to the radio.  We enjoyed food, candles, and love.  We were HOME.

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