Three Gifts Behind A Door

I turn off the car and wait for a minute before I get out.  I'm tired and stressed, and my bag is heavy with books and too much to do.  I carry this weight to the mailbox where I find bills that I can't pay.  Then I make my way to the door, unlock it, and step inside.  Some days I look around at the chaos and want to walk right back out of the door.  But most days I close the door and lean heavy against it as I take in the warmth that is home.  Yes, there are back packs on the floor and dishes in the sink.  And three crazy sprites usually attack me, who always want to talk all at once.   They have papers to sign and homework to do and they're always, always, hungry.  I breathe in the mom chaos as it greets me.  It's what I  live for. So I drop my bags and begin to sort through the beautiful mess that I find behind the door.