Brushing Off the Day

I trotted back through our front door and scrambled up onto the kitchen counter, my felt boots still dusted with white flour from the afternoon pasta stall. A proud chef always cleans up before calling it a night! Gripping a soft corner of the folded linen napkin in the upright wooden holder, I leaned forward and buffed the toe of my shoe until the powdery smudges disappeared. After rubbing the other boot completely clean, I rested my back against the pine holder and let my weary legs stretch out across the counter. The quiet kitchen hummed peacefully in the dark, and it felt magnificent to finally kick back and rest.