The Laundry

The Laundry
The hamper is never empty
Because our lives are always full.

Full.

The grass streaks = playing at the park
The milk spit-up= sweet baby snuggles
The grease stains= how hard he works for us
The chocolate drips= yummy ice-cream dribbling down her chin
The spaghetti sauce= squeals of delight while squishing noodles

I plan and strategize and map out ways.
Ways to empty that hamper.

But they never fully work.
The clothes pile up like breeding bunnies-
Beyond belief before my eyes.

I sigh.
I groan.
And kick that hamper.

But then…I remember.

The hamper is never empty
Because our lives are so blessedly full.

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