Shoes scattered beside the rack,
a growing pile of clothes by the bed,
socks abandoned on the floor, waiting
as if they might learn to wash themselves.
Tools stray outside the garage,
litter lurks beside the bin,
half-full water glasses stack on the nightstand,
a washing load idles in the machine,
waiting for someone else to move them.
Nearly empty jars, the last drop of milk,
cupboards drained which cannot replenish themselves.
The last banana. The last curl of butter. There is no more pasta.
The sink always full.
The house now a walk-in wardrobe,
walking through the dining room a hazardous affair.
And when she trips, she wonders which stray thing will be at fault.
These things may seem small, as if they don’t matter,
as if she doesn’t mind. But she does.
She minds because she is not your parent,
your keeper, your maid. She minds
because her free hours are ground down
to another load of laundry, another stack of dishes.
She minds because she wanted a teammate,
not an opponent.
She minds
because these small things
chip away at her softness, slowly,
day by day.
Amy Roullier
Amy Roullier is a British writer and author of Silent Reflections of a Fragile Heart. For her, writing began as personal therapy and has evolved into a way to connect with others, posing questions and offering reflections that might help readers find clarity. Based in Lincolnshire, Amy is an occasional vegetarian and a dedicated lover of carbs—her true soulmate. She’s currently navigating a mid-life crisis through running, and mornings are simply impossible without coffee.
