I folded socks in pairs and thought how much of love looks like repetition

Dear Delyara, The same motions. The same sorting. The same quiet acts that no one applauds because they only become visible when they don’t happen. I paired school socks, sports socks, little ankle socks, one odd sock that will probably live on top of the machine until next week. And while I was doing it, I thought about how much of family life depends on invisible repetition. Food. Washing. Folding. Noticing. Reminding. Beginning again. Love is not always dramatic. Often it is this. A woman matching small pieces of fabric at the end of a long day so the morning does not have to begin with panic.