I found my own earring in the bottom of the washing machine and thought, of course it ended up there

Dear Delyara, My belongings in the children’s spaces. Their belongings in my handbag. Work thoughts in the kitchen. Money fear in the car. Old arguments in bed. Love in the form of a note hidden in a coat pocket. Exhaustion in a woman still answering politely at 6 p.m. The earring was just one more version of the same truth. Nothing stays where it’s meant to anymore. Everything gets mixed with everything else. And I keep being the person who notices. I picked it up, wiped it clean, and felt very tired all of a sudden.