Hush Puppies

The holidays are over. The tree is still sitting there, though most of the trash has finally migrated towards the laundry holding room. That's what I believe that room is for, but Ken doesn't seem to recognize my dark hints. I mean, it's all bagged up (except for the dirty clothes) so I don't understand the problem. We have an old war, where I heap up things and see if he loves me. He allows the heaps to remain, to see if I love him. It's not true, we both know we adore each other. But it makes for some good fusses and makeup sessions. 

So today I worked feverishly on a listing, going from zero to a hundred to get it online. Never mind that it was 20 degrees out today and my stomach was revolting from the holiday debauchery. There's bags of candy cloaking miniscule pieces of pecan, bowls of Reese's, tins of homemade goodies that people gifted us over the holidays and a whole basket of mystery loaves of something. The Georgia game was on and Ken headed to one of our son's homes to jump and shout, but I stayed home with my raggedy constitution, drank hot tea and ate an apple. 

Suddenly I felt really sorry for myself. Christmas is over, New Years Eve is past. All the presents are passed out, the turkey eaten, the parties over, the trips taken. Our daughter is gone away for a long visit with a friend, all my grandbabies are safe at home with my sons and their wives, Ken's off watching the game, my sister's phone is broke so I can't call her, my dog's not here tonight, I'm still fat and I already called my Mama this morning. I don't have a "word" or a plan for 2018. I moped into the kitchen and gazed at the new dishwasher that came today, wrapped in its layers of packaging. Apparently the Magic Plumber did not come with it, so I started washing the pile of dishes on the counter by hand. With all the blessings and largesse piled about me, all I could do was complain in my head. 

I think it's good to be left alone sometimes with our thoughts, our selves, with only the warm water running and the soapy water, caring for the dirty dishes. I gaze up at the night sky in the window, the branches of the pecan trees like skeletons worshipping the moon. Cars drive by, intent on their destinations. The cry of the train lowing, lonely engineers content in the regularity of their schedules. My will protests the quietness, the necessities. The obligations of the simplest needs of life bring me to humility as I do my job, one of those original, ignoble jobs that takes me back to my roots, my youth. The youngest of children can wash the dishes. At least they should. As I finish, dragging out the full trash bags and turning out the lights, I hear a beautiful Appalachian melody whispering out of my high-tech phone. My heart quiets, I talk to God. Flesh and bone, dust to dust, we walk the earth. Some days we're shiny and then some we're laid low. Hush up world, I'm listening to my heart beat.