Member-only story
Part one
When Friendship Crosses The Line…
a house-cleaning task, not of our making, that still draws our breath away…
Whenever my friend suggested to her children that they help clean they’d ask, “Why? Is Maria coming over?”
Let me assure you that I don’t have a spotless home. I’d like to think that when I take my last breath, I will be remembered for more than cleaning.
Still, it’s clean enough to be healthy to live in, with signs of being lived-in, and loved.
It is, after all, a place to call home, and if that means tripping over the odd shoe, or transporting some rubbish to the bin, so be it.
I’m imagining that most of us live in those kinds of boxes.
My friend did not
As a teacher and part-time thespian, she was rarely home. Theatre is what she loved, where she found herself, and home was no more than a place to rest her weary head at night.
With two teenagers, ones with lots of friends, hers became a refuge to any recalcitrants in the neighborhood. The kids attracted many of them!
And why not?
With no resident mother, the home was a veritable honeypot for the local bees!
