I felt less stupid when I was alone

I felt less stupid when I was alone.

Dancing around the kitchen, music blaring, beaters whipping, scent of vanilla and sugar.

I felt joy of creation, sense of fulfillment in baking for him, propelled by chocolate love.

Then I was not alone.

He was there.

I should be more careful to not get batter everywhere. Should do a better job unsticking the muffins. Should make sure every speck is cleaned off the loaf pans.

I felt less stupid when I was alone.

Whistling as I washed and hung laundry, sniffing the sunshine infused fabric as I unpinned them from the clothesline.

I felt happy when I folded his clothes,knew he was set for work,stretched fresh sheets on the bed.

Then I was not alone.

He was there.

I should stop getting our socks mixed up. Should tuck the sheets tighter the way he liked. Should do a better job sorting.

I felt less stupid when I was alone.

I felt accomplished as I whipped through the household to-do list before and after work, checking each off with a grin, getting it all done so I could focus on my job.

It felt good to do my part, contributing to the flow, taking those chores off everyone else's plate.

Then I was not alone.

He was there.

I should scrub the kitchen floor more often. Should dust the stuff up high that I forgot about. Should wash the windows more.Should make more money at work.

Then I thought as i gazed at the clouds. The sun poked through.

Maybe he should hire someone to cook, clean, bake, care, and dote on him.

Apparently I was not good enough.

I could be alone all the time if I wanted.

Caring for a person who appreciated it.

Me.