The loud roar of the carpet cleaner next to my ear drowned out the rest of the world.  On my hands and knees, I scrubbed the hand nozzle back and forth over the stain.  My thoughts drifted aimlessly as a dull ache settled into my lower back.  I thought of the day’s to-do list.  I hadn’t crossed off a single item yet, and somehow I felt exhausted.

A loud scream brought me back to present time.  I looked up to see Kiki screaming and crying fastened into her highchair with Bunder sitting across the table plugging his ears.  I took a deep breath and almost continued working the stain.

Unavoidably, I thought of our family friend who recently lost his life fighting in Afghanistan.  He was 24.  I saw his picture in my mind – the one plastered all over the internet, he’s wearing a beret and uniform standing next to an American flag.

I thought of his mother.  I thought of his father.  I thought of his only brother.  I turned off the steam cleaner, walked over to Kiki, picked her up, nestled her into my neck, and whispered, “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  Mommy’s here.”

My eyes welled with tears.  With my spare hand, I embraced Bunder, leaned over his head, and kissed his hair.



This is my first time participating in “Just Write”, an exercise in free writing.  To learn more about it, click this button.


About Mother Ruckus

Living the dream of motherhood and hoping to survive. View all posts by Mother Ruckus

5 responses to “Priorities

  • Kris & Chris

    Such a thought provoking post. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in completing tasks that we forget that what’s most important to us can instantly be gone. It was beautiful that in that moment you were able to stop what you were doing and just go love your babies. Something we all can’t do enough of I think. I have been learning myself that some things really can wait. Family first. Then laundry (of course I’m still working on that balance thing too:).

  • Kris & Chris

    p.s. I am truly sorry for the loss of your friend.

  • melissa @ the pleated polka dot

    beautiful. i am sorry for your loss. death often puts everything else into perspective. how fleeing are out moments. thank you for this reminder.

    (visiting from just write)
    hugs to you and your family during this time.

  • Heather

    Sometimes perspective is just so painful. I’m sorry for your loss.
    Your words brought ME perspective tonight. Truly. Thank you.

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