It Was Done Now
The sun rose on what later became known as his darkest night. The effort was thoughtless and unmotivated. The broom bristles flexed and backlashed the many aged crumbs toward the center of the kitchen into a pile several crumbs deep at its highest point. A cabinet door hinge squeaked resistively revealing the inner contents. Glowing as if backlit by the softest most romantic light was an heirloom of unrivaled utility—the grand patriarch’s dustpan. Unspoken triumphs of unsung heroes could be read in the patina of dust and sweat and grime and the love of generations. Today he joined the lineage, performing an action conducted for its own sake.
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