Trashed Thursday

The phone is ringing off the wall, no one answers. A Mother's worry leads to a long drive through twisted trees, and up winding hills. Houses along the way banter insults from their trash laden yards.
Upon entering the house we step back with disgust as our eyes race wildly while our voices call out her name. No answer. Again we shout. A small weary voice is heard from the bedroom. Walking over and around mounds of clothing scattered from the front to the back of the house. My breath leaves me as I take in her surroundings. Lying in her bed covers over her head, she peers out with a half smile. I bend in and pull the cover back to kiss her forehead and cheeks a million times. She is my sunshine but her light has dimmed. From the hall her Daddy says, "rise and shine, get this house clean". He rolls up his sleeves and digs in as I wisper in her ear, "you must rise and meet the day for it is about to be gone." With as much effort as she can muster, she rises, dresses and combs her hair. The three of us accomplish much. Will she rise another day?