I stumbled onto the Daily Post blog and found a writing prompt by the name Fearful symmetry
Because picking a letter felt like an impossible task, I used a random letter generator that I found online, and ended up with the letter A.
A limit reached
All she wanted was a moment for herself, a moment of peace and quiet when no one asked her for anything, no one called out her name nor used her as a jungle gym. After all, in another time, in another life, she would’ve been appalled by the state of her home, the never ending Lego construction site in the middle of the living room, the highway of cars racing across the couch. Although, she didn’t want to be annoyed by the mess or the noise, she couldn’t help it. Anew, she stepped over the minefield spread out on the floor, to collect the clothes left lying all over the place.
“Argh,” she mewled as a piece of the Danish designed torture devices lodged itself into her heel.
“Aidan, Adam and Andrew,” she yelled and counted to ten, trying not to lose her temper.
Alas, the counting did not calm her nerves. All three boys, rumbled down the stairs, sweeping through the room like a tornado. A shove here, an insult there, the brothers paid no notice to their mother standing in the middle of the room seething. Adam, the middle child, was the first to sense their mother’s mood and he shushed down his brothers.
“Are you alright, mom,” he asked, his green eyes filled with worry, looking up at her.
“Am I alright,” she retorted raising her voice. “Again, none of you have picked up these darn things,” she yelled throwing a handful of Lego around the room.
A silence fell, as the boys watched their mother’s last nerve break. An avalanche of words spewed forward accompanied by tears streaming down her cheeks.
Astounded, the boys stood in the middle of the messy living room and listened to her. At last, the flood of words narrowed down to a mere trickle, and when she finally stopped, the boys started cleaning up the mess they’d made. A deep breath, and she felt the weight on her shoulders release. A minute or two passed, before she joined her sons in picking up the toys from the floor. After even the last Lego was cleared from the floor, she hugged her boys. Apologies were mumbled, and a few I love you-s too.
Apparently a breakdown was needed for the air to be cleaned, and although the peace – and the tidy living room – lasted only for about thirty minutes, Aidan, Adam and Andrew understood, that their mother is only human too.