by: Hannah Dearth
My little helper.
Unloading dishes.
Mowing grass.
Sweeping the floor.
You want to do it.
Not because it’s fun, but because you want to be like me.
Little hands holding a plate that looks like it weighs more than you.
A broom twice your height.
My little helper.
It takes longer.
Sometimes it even takes redoing.
But the smile is worth it, and right now the world is much slower, and my little helper, we have all the time.
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