Blood

My aunt sprained her foot this evening. That left me to wipe the kitchen floor after dinner, the first time I've been alone in that kitchen since the night after my mother's death on that same floor.

If you look closely on the tile under the fixed cupboard, you can still see remnants of my mother's blood, the dried stains we were unable to reach to mop up. 

Today, while I was wiping the kitchen floor, I remembered my mother in law. She helped me clean my mother's blood after we returned from the hospital. She and I scraped the pulpy mess out, sprinkled water on the dried clots, mopped up the seeping blood and carefully poured out buckets and buckets of reddened water from the moppings into the toilet so that the bathrooms would not become stained with the discards.

No matter how much my mother in law and I might argue, I will never forget how she helped me that night, quietly, sincerely and compassionately. She wept for my mother as she cleaned and although my eyes remained dry, I took comfort in her tears. 

Many hours later, my cousin and I wiped the floor again with soap and water to remove the stickiness of the blood and the stench of it. She sprayed insect repellent by the foot of the cupboard to stop ants from eating the blood. 

Today, wiping down the floor again, I saw the stubborn stains of dried blood hiding under the immovable cupboard and I recalled my mother in law and my cousin. Somehow, I am not as worried about ants eating up mom's blood. Let them. May they gain some succor from it. 

As for my mom, she truly did give her tears, sweat and blood to that kitchen.