Yesterday, Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, was wet and cool to start with. Later, it got kind of steamy when the sun came out. September 1, was a memorable day in history. On that day in 1939, Germany invaded Poland and World War II began. On the first day of September in 1864, the South tasted the bitter campaign of a man named Sherman, when Atlanta fell and he began his swath of death and destruction from Atlanta to the sea. And I? Well, yesterday, September 1, 2014, I mopped my floors!
For many years, each Labor Day, I mop. Why? I don’t know! And, it sounds as if I mop only once a year, which isn’t true. Maybe it’s a tradition to celebrate being upright, mobile, and rejoicing in being able to work. Clean floors are nice and cool to walk on. They give me a sense of accomplishment, once the job is done. I’m thankful that I have floors to mop and am able to do so! Some would think I could probably find other, more pleasant ways to commemorate Labor Day, and I probably could; however, I mop.
Long, long ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was a little girl, school never started until after Labor Day. When did all that change? It must be one of the great, unsolvable mysteries of life. And, by the way, school ended a long time before June rolled around. But, things change and, I suppose I must change with them. As I grow older, I find that I cling to things that give a sense of timelessness. They are reassuring and familiar, even if it’s just grabbing the mop and applying it to the floor. It is a custom that comes around as surely as the calendar changes: each Labor Day, I mop my floor!
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