I stood with my back to the room, scrubbing the stovetop while a full orchestra performed in our apartment.

The dishwasher stood in for the string section, producing various flowing harmonies and chords. Mercy used a box flap and a few toys to give light percussion to the group. A flutist perched in the tree outside and expertly warbled for us through the patio doors, while Liberty hummed a happy, mellow saxophone or French horn sounding melody, engrossed in her coloring at the dining room table.

I smiled at the spilled grease on the stove. "We're pretty blessed, you and I, aren't we?"

The stove agreed.
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4 Responses
  1. Debbie F. Says:

    Wow, that's beautiful. I'd be cursing the grease. You're enjoying the orchestra.

  2. Suanna Says:

    How poetic! I know exactly what you were hearing.

  3. Que Says:

    I'm with Debbie on this one.

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