In the kitchen there’s mess everywhere. Whose night was it for dishes? Why is the dishwasher not emptied? Where did all these empties sitting next to the sink come from? Garbage, green bin need to be emptied—not my job. The kids clear a path when I’m coming, knowing glances flash at each other, they think I don't see. Mom’s in a mood—do what she says and look out.
Everyone finally leaves and I put the kettle on. I’m sorry now, but there’s nobody left to hear an apology. It’s so quiet except for the roar inside my head.
My friend and teacher David said it so well. His words from Sunday’s philosophy class run through my mind. Emptiness and karma—two poles that together make the tent stand. Laundry is just laundry. Dust, just dust, Dishes, dishes—even unwashed dishes. The anger, the blame, the shame that follows, all come from inside me. I’m frustrated with myself—that assignment not finished, I wanted to practice early this morning but didn’t get up in time, things that should have been done ages ago but have been avoided. Don’t the kids need dentist appointments? I’ll make those tomorrow.
Right now, I’m angry. That’s who I am in this moment, right now, as I storm around the kitchen tripping over the dogs, and the—who left the chair in the middle of the room? Why did my partner not clean up like he said he would, I had wondered upon waking this morning. Hmmm. Maybe it’s something more like, why don’t I do what I say I will? That’s more difficult to say to myself, but it rings with truth—uncomfortable truth.