There were weeks when I cleaned houses, offices, and even a dentist’s clinic where the floor smelled like mint. One rainy Thursday, Audrey waited by the window, holding my old umbrella.
“You always take care of me.”
“You look tired,” she said, peering up at me as I shook out my coat.
“I’m fine, baby. Did you finish your reading?”
She nodded. “I read two chapters. But can you quiz me on history?”
I smiled, washing my hands.
We’d go back and forth as I cooked, her voice bouncing off the kitchen tile. It was our routine, work, dinner, quiz, stories. That was life.
And we made it work. I cleaned houses, offices, clinic, anywhere that would pay me.
“You look tired.”
***
