Complete

We wash the dishes, polish sinks

Making living-quarters neat

We add the touch of blooms and such

But still, something is not complete

We do the laundry, fill the fridge

With healthy and good things to eat

And yet we sense a keen absence

Of something just not quite complete

We scrub the floors and fuss about

The mess left by way-faring feet

And almost there, we touch the air

Of something keen and incomplete

The front-door slams, someone calls ‘Mom’?

Ah yes, they say silence is sweet

I like the noise of girls and boys

Shaping what makes a home complete

Thank-you Lord, the daily war

Of cleaning-cooking-cares repeat

Yet, in the end they bind and blend

The joys that make a home complete

© Janet Martin

Last night at supper I tried recording the family in ‘lively conversation’ to put it mildly. I sort of missed the moment but it struck me how the completeness of living is not in its tidiness or quietness but in its noise and messes. I like being the listener to their debates/arguments; usually Matt versus sisters, something like-Why People Who Belch are Happier Than Those Who Don’t, etc…

Matt Versus Sisters (of course, at fifteen he enjoys few things more than driving his sisters CRAZY!)

Often, if hubby calls during the day and asks what I’m doing my answer will be something like, ‘oh, laundry, or cleaning or dishes’. ‘Again?’ he asks, ‘Is that all you do?’ No it’s not, but I do it a lot!