Never underestimate the power of hanging the washing on the line in peace.
Picture this moment with me.
Your baby is asleep in her bed for the first time in days, maybe even weeks. The other children are not home. You step outside with a basket of washing. The air is cool and crisp but the beaming sunshine is warm. You can almost feel the vitamin D being absorbed into your skin as you leisurely fumble around for pegs with one hand while holding wet cleaning cloths in the other. The microfibre is soft and gentle and soothing.
A carrot cake is baking in the oven and a fragrant aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon floats through the kitchen window and tantilises your nostrils. You can almost taste it. You see the beautiful colours of the vast variety of cloths flapping in the breeze. It is pleasing to the eyes that usually stare at dirty faces and cluttered floors.
Your ears search for a sound. There is no laughter but there is also no crying. There are no jumbled phrases to decipher. There is no whinging, no sooking, no shouting, no demands being placed. By some miracle there’s no machinery off in the distance either. Even the ringing in your ears are stopped for a brief moment, stunned by the coldness in the air. For just a few minutes of respite you hear, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It is absolute bliss.
You finish your work and sneak back inside. You lie down on the bed. You pull up the covers and take a moment to thank a God for the little things, these minutes of peace, that give you the strength to get back up and face the rest of the day. This moment is so beautiful that you feel it must be shared with another, so you start to write about it.
You have to pee and you remember that your oven no longer “dings” and you’ve probably burned your cake. Moment’s over.