Love

i empty, you load.

i wash, you dry.

i fold, you put away.

it's a dance that we've fallen in to over the years. our roles within the house have shaped in to a balancing act. and when something doesn't go as planned, as prescribed, resentment rears it's ugly head. 'it was my job to fold, you didn't put away the clothes', 'why is the dishwasher still full?'

but that's not love. that's not what a marriage should be. love means giving. giving freely. without expectations or anything in return. hang up the shirt that was 'his job' to get done. empty the dishwasher for the 3rd time today even though he's done it once this week. it's not a balancing act.

love is not balance. love is not a contest. love is not sitting on your hands waiting for the other one to notice you swept and mopped the kitchen floor and don't you deserve some praise? love is doing those chores because they're chores. they need to get done. and the jobs may be unevenly distributed at times, but it's all a wash in the end because the dishes get clean. and who cares who cooks and who cleans? who really cares?

when our worth is tied to our duties, when our love is contingent on equality, no one wins. it's an endless spiral of resentment and silence and we should be able to talk about these things. so yes, the laundry may pile up, and yes you may do more than your fair share of dishes. but the love doesn't diminish the more you work. the love stays constant. the love stays.