And Now, We Both Can Rest

We got a helper! We didn’t need one until I realized that my mother, who is obsessive compulsive over cleanliness, will not rest. I sit in front of my computer all day and she moves ever so slowly doing every household chore. Once in a while she will drop something, and I will run downstairs thinking she was the one who fell. Or I’d always stand behind her as she waters her plants (she doesn’t like the way I do it; she said I don’t pour enough water) fearful that she may loose her balance and fall backwards. Or I’d check on her whenever she dusts the cupboard because I simply can’t rest typing away words and ideas while she stands on top of a chair. I go up and down in our small house, checking on her. She says, “Go ahead with your work; you can’t wash the dishes because your hands are tired.” I insist sometimes, and we fight.

So when my uncle said that his daughter has stopped reporting to her previous employer, I convinced my mother that she needed a helper. My mother has done every bit of house keeping ever since I can remember. We grew up without a maid (we are five children) and she did all the cleaning and the cooking and the washing and the sewing while she peddled pancit around the city. Since her standards for cleanliness are very high, even her youngest sister who at one time tried to help her in the house failed her test and eventually left. I don’t meet her standards either, because I don’t have a problem with dirt. I can let the house gather dust and then I can clean it only once a week.

The helper came today, and my mother supervised her as she began her first duties. The usual easy tasks, routine for a house wife, have got to be delegated to her, but she needed to know how meticulously some deeds need to be done. “I will test her, “my mother said, “because this is too expensive. When I was still strong I could do several things at the same time. I’d still rather do it myself than teach how everything is to be done over and over again. That is even more tiring.”

But I could see that she was able to relax. For a while, at least, because she then got her sewing box and began piecing together some scraps of cloth, sewing them into something that now covers our spoon and fork organizer. She said, “Now I have time to sew these pieces of cloths. I cut them a long time ago and had always wanted to sit down and finally piece them together. This is what I’m going to do now. Helen can do the rest.”

I’m glad that Helen came today. I hope she passes the test so my mother and I can both rest.

My House
Robert William Service
I have a house I've lived in long:
I can't recall my going in.
'Twere better bartered for a song
Ere ruin, rot and rust begin.
When it was fresh and fine and fair,
I used it with neglect, I fear;
But now I husband it with care
And cherish it form year to year.

Oh do not put it to the flame
When I have gone, but let the dust,
The honest earth from which it came,
Reclaim it as is only just.
For when at last I close the door,
And turn the key and go away,
I deed my house forever more
To silence, sleep and slow decay.

My house is old beyond repair,
And soon I must abandon it,
A poor ghost, seeking everywhere
To find a home as fine and fit;
But if I win domain divine
Wherein eternally to dwell,
I'll not forget, O Body Mine!
Life home of Me, I've loved you well.