So I'm washing a blanket. It is a weighted blanket so it cannot go in the ancient washing machine (can I just call that a washine? Is that allowed?). But it NEEDS to be washed. So I put it in the tub and filled it with hot water and detergent and got to scrubbing.
And I'm sat there beside this tub of hot water and suds and cloth, hands and forearms red from the heat of the water and the friction of the washing, sweat dripping into the mix off my forehead, and the thought wanders through my brain that this has been done, like this, for almost all of human history. Maybe it was a metal tub, or a wooden one, or a river or lake shore, but through all of our time here together we have done this thing in this way.
I cherish these moments so dearly. Washing and wringing and hanging. Kneading bread. Sweeping the floor. Putting things in baskets. Owning a bag with a strap or two for carrying things that need carrying. Building a fire. Roasting meat. These things are eternal for us and we have always done them. When I do these things it's like....it's not just me. It's everyone.
You may not be here but you did this thing. Your hands knew these motions. Your heart beat like mine, and I feel you there. I feel you here with me. Do you feel me too?
Individualism is a lie. Everything I am and everything I do was built by other people, and I have helped build others. You are with me and I am with you and there is so much love in that.