A letter to you.

I came home tonight, two tired hungry children in tow to a clean sink. I knew when I left this morning that you’d do the dishes. But I still didn’t expect you to. 

I just don’t think you truly know what this means to me. 

Over the last 13 to 14 years of life, I took care of things. Sometimes tired or sick, but there they always were, waiting for me. The dishes. Being a mom and making food for your family means there’s never a shortage.

Even when my sister and niece lived with me, I still was responsible for all of them. Occasionally a friend or relative would help out after I cooked a meal for them, but mostly, still. I did the dishes. 

Moving out on my own has been a wonderful thing. I’ve never been resentful towards my sink since I’ve had my own place. I’m so happy and grateful for everything I have now. I love cooking with you and for you. When you make me breakfast, it’s like fucking Christmas. Every time. And even though you’ve been around a little while, and I  guess not all that long in the scheme of things I still am shocked and amazed you want to do them. 

When I came home to a clean sink today, it made my entire day. I want to cry. I feel so touched and loved, and for the first time, taken care of. I love taking care of the people in my life. It’s what I do. I’m not used to anyone wanting to take care of me in the same way, and this is completely unfamiliar to me. 

I don’t really know where this is going. I just really wanted you to know how much that one thing meant to me today. 

You are amazing. And, I love you.

That’s all.

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