The Baynhams

I had an early start this morning. The alarm went off at 5am. I snuck out of bed and down the dark stairs to the hallway below. On a hanger by the front door hung my work uniform, next to my shoes was my packed lunch and the car keys. I was tired and dressed in the dark with eyes mostly shut then padded my way into the kitchen for breakfast.

I have been struggling recently to manage work and housework. I'm not naturally neat and organised but I have learnt the hard way what chaos happens if I don't try. And so at 5.10am I found myself standing in the half light of morning hanging wet washing on the outside line. The world was quiet, my kids were still sleeping. By 6am I was in work, making beds, giving out pills, printing discharge paperwork and updating care plans, all before my own kids were eating their breakfast. But my washing was drying, blowing in the morning breeze and deep inside I felt smug. I was juggling and the balls were all in the air.

I cheerfully commented to one old lady about what a beautiful day it was outside. She cheerfully replied that it was.... for now. Rain was coming, heavy rain, starting in Cessnock and crossing the mountains towards us by the end of the day. Not before 3pm I prayed, stay dry till I get home, please don't make my early morning job worthless.

As I ran out of the hospital at the end of my shift the first drops of rain were falling. As the car engine started up the rain was dotting on my windscreen. By the time I was halfway home my windscreen wipers were on full. I knew my line full of dark heavy clothes would have been bone dry 30 minutes ago but the closer I got to home the wetter I knew they were getting.

I sat in a line of traffic at the roadworks and waited and waited and waited. The irritation started in the pit of my stomach and made its way to my finger tips that clenched hard on the steering wheel. I felt mad that my hard work so early this morning was for nothing. I might as well have just let the clothes sit wet in the machine. Right now the only thing I felt was pure frustration.

It was then that I heard it, the sound of the siren. I looked in my mirror and watched the flashing lights speeding along the road I had just travelled. The cars pulled in tight to the side of the road and the Ambulance sped past me in a blur of lights and siren wails. Someone somewhere ahead didn't care about the rain, or their washing, or anything else but getting help quickly.

Perspective.

My clothes are damp. They are hanging over the backs of the kitchen chairs. My kids are sleeping tucked up warm in their beds. My husband is home in the house with me. What more do I need?