Stains..

My clothes stained from the day. I look cautiously at the clock

and finish buttering the bread. The choice is mine.

Do I retreat to freshen up or will he understand? I keep
on and it seems like there is always something else to do.

The door opens, he's early. The kids screaming, "Daddy!!".

I have noone to hold to cover my stains. I just stand and wait my

turn. He catches my eye and he grabs me as if it's been days since he

last kissed me. I melt in his embrace and I'm thankful that I stand a little

tired, a little stained, but he pulls me to him with such ease.

His words still echoing from our morning talk,

"Lean on me Robin, I can handle it."

I believe him.

I could not possibly have enough hours with this man.

The days could never ADD up "to enough".

The table is set, the food is hot, the conversations loud, and no-one

notices that I have stains on my shirt.

Reposted from the archives...