The Bakers Adventures

Dear Bedroom Floor,

I owe you an apology. Possibly several.

You’ve been my landing pad and my dumping ground, my silent witness and occasional toe-stubber. You’ve carried the weight of laundry piles (both clean and suspiciously not), the sprawl of half-packed bags, shoes I swore I’d put away, and me.. sitting cross-legged with wet cheeks, just trying to remember why I walked in here in the first place.

You’ve seen it all.

Some days, I move about like a swirling, semi-dramatic tornado, and you hold it all.. the discarded jeans, the bra that I half-flung in frustration, the kids sock that somehow migrated here from another dimension. You don’t complain. You just… take it.

When life feels loud and chaotic, you’re the one place I stop. Sometimes literally. I sit down (usually on a towel that was meant for the laundry basket) and just… breathe. Think. Scroll. Cry.

You’re the stage for quiet moments too. Like when one of the kids tiptoes in, curls up beside me, and whispers something sleepy that breaks my heart open. Or when I lie on you with my legs up the wall, pretending it’s “intentional yoga” instead of sheer exhaustion.

You never judge me.

You don’t ask me to be more organised, more put together, more adult. You don’t raise an eyebrow when I mutter to myself or when I wear the same pjs three days in a row. (Though let’s be honest, you could say something about the snack crumbs.)

You are the place I land.. after big days, broken days, beautiful days. You’re the pause between what I show the world and what I allow myself to feel.

So thank you. For holding the mess. For not needing me to have it all together. For staying soft (emotionally, not physically.. let’s not pretend there isn’t a LEGO somewhere under the bed).

I see you. I appreciate you. I will (eventually) vacuum you.

Love,
Me