Ordinary

I do ordinary things every day. Like the dishes. And I eat cold cereal for breakfast. I wear ordinary clothes. I brush my teeth, I make the bed. I slap on some make-up here and there. I cook dinner. Not fancy dinners, but at least I cook them. I put clothes in the washing machine, I drive to the bank, the grocery store, and Target. I pump the car with gas. I check the mail. Nothing special, nothing exciting.

There are a pair of little blue eyes that watch me do these ordinary tasks. Beautiful blue eyes, that remind me, every time I look at them, of someone else with matching ones. Each morning these bright eyes find my face and spread a big, open-mouthed grin across hers. Her eyes fill with wonder at each ordinary chore I do. The dishes are shiny, they make noise. My cold cereal looks curiously sweet, and her tiny little tongue gets ready to taste it with every bite I take. She reaches out to touch my clothes, to scrunch her fingers around them. Holding onto the end of my vibrating toothbrush sets her into a fit of giggles. She watches so intently as I cut up the bright fruits and vegetables. The pots and pans, the steam, the smells... her dainty fingers reach out to pull in anything she can reach in order to examine it. Her head twists back and forth down every aisle of the store in order to absorb all of the colors, the sizes, the textures, and the sounds. The mail comes from a shiny box- with KEYS, and the paper crinkles when she touches it.

All of my ordinary tasks become something more when she is there, wondering, waiting, and watching. Ordinary is much more than mundane... with Mary, ordinary is discovery, it's nothing less than exciting, stimulating, and wonderful. Light oozes from her little self like a morning ray of sunshine, touching everything in sight.

Today, Mary made me feel more than mundane, more than ordinary. She made what I was doing really matter. Ordinary wasn't so ordinary today, not for me, and certainly, not for her.