My words are:
money ~ turkey ~ clock ~ light ~ garbage
They were submitted by: http://www.renasworld.com/
The title may be a bit misleading.
She picks up the garbage strewn around the room and chunks it in the bin. It’s been a long day, and the last thing she wants to do is clean up, but she has a compulsive streak that won’t let her get any rest until everything is set back in its place and the cleaning is all done. The turkey or what’s left of it has already been tucked inside plastic bags and set in the refrigerator for tomorrow’s lunch, so all that’s left to do is wipe the counters and get to the mound of dirty dishes in the sink. It might take two runs in the dishwasher to clean them all.
She stands at the sink washing the leftover grime down the drain lost in thought over the day--the way the tension always hung in the room whenever the family was together, no affection or warmth. Everyone was mechanical. A family of androids not programmed with any semblance of human emotion.
Sometimes she lays in bed at night staring at the wave of royal blue light coming from the digital numbers on her alarm clock on the little table beside her wondering if she actually knows what love feels like. Has she ever been loved? Does she know how to love? Is that a natural occurrence or does love have to be nutured? She thinks maybe you have to be loved to learn how to love and marvels at how broken she is, how desperate to feel something, anything other than numbness.
There’s not enough money in all the world, she guesses, that could fix that sort of void, to breech that harbor of nothingness. How do you teach someone to love who has never felt it?
She finishes stacking the first load of dishes in the washer, turns it on, and looks around the kitchen. She takes her purple Scotch Brite sponge and a bottle of Fantatik and goes to work on the counter and table washing away every speck that is out of place. She leans back against the counter to take in the fruits of her labor, her sparkling kitchen. If only her soul could be feel this clean, this fresh and shiny… if she could take a sponge and soak up all self-hatred from years of never feeling good enough maybe she could start anew.
Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:
http://bakinginatornado.com Baking In A Tornado
http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade
http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes
http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/ Sparkly Poetic Weirdo
http://www.southernbellecharm.com Southern Belle Charm
http://www.renasworld.com/ Rena’s World
http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Never Ever Give Up Hope http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/ The Bergham Chronicles
http://eileensperpetuallybusy.blogspot.com/ Eileen’s Perpetually Busy
http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/ Confessions of a part-time working mom
http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius
http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com The Angrivated Mom