Dec 29, 2020 3 min read

Four days off.

I had four days off – in a row – surrounding Christmas. It was largely a wonderful weekend. I cooked our traditional dinner of tacos, watched the Hobbit trilogy with my family, opened several lovely and thoughtful gifts, and spent a little time working on the floor project in our hallway.

Then, on the last day, I tried to clean up from the entire weekend.

I woke up and got out of bed when the dog whined to be let out, but instead of going back to sleep afterward, I dressed for the day. While the hungry puppy ate his breakfast, I made some coffee and started a load of laundry.

I was cruising right along.

Next, I emptied the ashes from the wood stove and then swept the floor in the mudroom. Then I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. I had a small sink full of pots and pans that needed to be washed by hand once the rest of the dishes had been started.

I drew a basin full of hot, soapy water and began washing them. There were already a few dishes in my drainer but I’m pretty good at the super stack, so I began piling them atop one another. Once they were all draining, I began scrubbing the counters and sweeping the kitchen.

I was pouring a second cup of coffee when suddenly a loud noise came from the sink area. I turned around just in time to watch one of my pots slide off the top of my stack. It fell, seemingly in slow motion, onto the floor beside the sink. The handle hit first and broke into pieces, which flew into the air. The rest of the pot hit a second later, landing on the ceramic cat bowl. That also flew into the air in pieces.

So did the contents – what I am pretty sure was about a thousand pieces of dried kibble. It sounded like rain as it all hit the floor. As the last of it came to a rest, I saw the spring from the middle of the handle of my pot bounce one more time and roll toward me, coming to a stop near my feet.

I wanted to cry, but instead I started laughing. It must have startled my husband, who came to see why I sounded like a maniac before breakfast. I swept up the broken bowl and all the kibble while he talked me down from the ledge.

Together, we managed to repair my morning, even though, sadly, the pot did not survive.

It has been my absolute pleasure to share these stories and my life with you all for the past decade. I have received dozens of notes from you when something I shared resonated for one reason or another. Many of you have recognized me in public and spoken to me in friendship. Several times, your kind generosity to a cause I have shared has surprised and touched me deeply.

That makes it hard to say goodbye, but I believe the time has come. I still hope to submit to the newspaper on occasion, but don’t intend to continue a weekly contribution.

Thank you for your support and kindness over the years. It meant a lot to me and I will never forget it.