Thursday, September 13, 2012

chores and memories


I stood there vacuuming and thought of Mother Hildegard. I doubt she’d appreciate the connection. I didn’t think of her because she used to vacuum back at the monastery or because I ever saw her use one, but because the smell that erupted from the dusty old machine I held was the same as the smell of her dusty old car on the day I vacuumed it with Sue. The car was covered in dirt, dust and dog hair—things typical to a several decade old vehicle on a farm—and it was our job to clean it. I remember hitting the seats with a brush and watching the dust explosions. The shining sun, the mist from the hose, the haze of the dust--all disappears as I am back at the entrance of the old house on 15th street, doing my weekly chore after work, smiling quietly about a time not long ago.