Years ago I would watch my Mom sweat, cry and bleed over our kitchen floors. Later in life (before we lived together) I knew to pick my words carefully if Jenny's old house smelt like cleaner.
I never understood why the women in my life that I looked up to cleaned to release stress. Doesn't cleaning just stress you out? Dang, Mom it sure stressed your kids out!
And then I moved in here. Jenny's first home post-divorce. The home we would day dream about getting when times were really bad, the house I would fantasize about over seas when I didn't know whether or not I had the strength to make it through one more day.
This is the first time I have taken ownership over a home. I know it's not technically mine, it's Jen's. But I was here from day one. I was here when she first started getting floor plans, when we would talk about the best lay out for the 2 of us, the dog, getting groceries, coming in soaked from swimming and snowboarding. We have created this home. We've created an idea, a spirit, a community. This is the first time I have known a consistent home.
And I am never more happy then when it smells like bleach and pine sol. (Ok I like when it smells like Donna Karen Cashmere Mist but that's besides the point). Tonight I've ripped this place apart and bleached out crevasses that have not seen the light of day in months.
Tonight I've begun to understand the release in cleaning. The way stress melts away with dust. I'm battling for my home on so many fronts as I battle the dirt and the dust.
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