I heard myself say “I’m coming” five times in ten minutes

Dear Delyara, One child from upstairs. One husband from the hallway. One dog scratching at the back door. One kettle boiling over. One phone ringing on the side. I moved from room to room replying, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” until I suddenly thought, yes, that’s exactly what my whole life feels like. Constant arrival. Rare rest. It wasn’t a terrible evening. Just very revealing. There are nights where I feel less like a person moving through her home and more like the answer to a building’s ongoing needs. I kept going because of course I did. But later, when the house was still, I remembered that sentence and it made me unexpectedly sad.