This is me doing it….starting with point number one: The Catholic Home is well-maintained. Hold fire until the end please.
When I was a little girl, my mom worked part-time in a local bookstore. She wasn’t gone much—maybe two nights a week and Saturdays. But oh, my sisters and I hated when she left.
“Don’t go, Mom,” we’d all cry in unison. “Dad’s going to make us cleeeeeeeeen.”
It didn’t work. She left, and before the car pulled out of the driveway, Dad was tossing cans of Pledge into my eight-year-old hands.
Life with my father—a former Navy man—was a life filled with cleaning. There are pictures of my sister Annmarie and I, ages 4 and 7, standing on chairs at the sink washing the dishes. We also scrubbed bathrooms, mopped floors, and dusted furniture well before we reached double digits.
It’s not like we…
View original post 1,888 more words