I Found a Hair Clip in the Cutlery Drawer

Dear Delyara, A pink hair clip sitting among forks and teaspoons as if it belonged there, as if all categories in this house had given up and agreed to become one large shared system of mild disorder and invisible maternal recovery. I took it out, smiled to myself, and then felt tired in that quiet domestic way that comes from always being the person who notices first. The clip, the note, the sock, the unpaid thing, the missing thing, the emotional thing, the thing that will become tomorrow’s stress if I do not quietly convert it into order tonight. I put the hair clip by the door. That is what my life is made of now. Small rescues no one sees because I usually complete them before anyone needs to.