Ellie sat down at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee in hand, and a determined expression in her hazel eyes. Sunlight filtering through the dirty window highlighted the splotch of strawberry jam on the golden oak table which she had neglected to wipe after breakfast.

Her life was a mess. She couldn’t ever get anything done. It wasn’t that Ellie didn’t try. She wrote list after list of “things to do,” yet never seemed to finish any of them. They were scattered around her office as silent testaments to her failure. Even when she wrote at the top of the list “DO THIS DAMMIT,” she never quite got to the end of any list before her attention waned. Now, perhaps she had the right tools to get her act together.

Spread out before her were the items she had found at the office supply store the day before: a packet of colored markers and a calendar. “It’s about time,” she thought, as she glanced about her cluttered kitchen. “I’m going to get organized!”

She picked up a black felt tip marker, and pulled her new calendar close. It was a thirty-year calendar; exactly what she needed to get her tasks in order. After a few moments thought, she wrote her tasks for that day on the space provided for her “to do” list. Taking a sip of her coffee, Ellie shrugged and turned the page. She filled out her tasks for the entire week, put down her pen, and stood.

“Time to get to work,” she said. She turned the dial on her silver kitchen timer, to give herself thirty minutes, and began to clean the kitchen. She was racing against the clock. Before the timer went off, she had the kitchen sink spotless. With a satisfied grin, she took a red marker and drew a line through the words on the calendar that said, “Wash the dishes, clean the sink.”

Again, Ellie set the timer. She grabbed a dusting cloth and a wastebasket as she started for the living room. Before the hour was over, Ellie had marked off three more tasks on her list. Every time she picked up that red marker, she felt a thrill of satisfaction. By 3:00 in the afternoon, Ellie had finished all of her tasks for the day. With a big smile, she took that red marker and drew an “X” through the day on the calendar. She grabbed her purse and keys to pick up her daughter, Monica, at school.

After supper, Ellie fidgeted on the couch beside her husband as they watched “Dancing With The Stars.” She was restless. Her mind was elsewhere, as she thought about the tasks on her list for tomorrow. Finally, she got up and took the vacuum cleaner into the guest bedroom.

At 8:30, Ellie glanced up to see Monica in her nightgown standing at the door. “Mommy,” she said, “would you read me a story?”

“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” sighed Ellie, pushing a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes. “Mommy is busy right now. Get Daddy to read.”

“But, you read better than Daddy,” Monica whined. “Besides, I want you to braid my hair.” Nearly every night Ellie sat with her daughter before bed, combing the child’s honey colored hair. When she braided it, the child didn’t have tangles the next day.

Without looking up from the cat hair coated baseboard she was dusting, Ellie shouted, “Daddy reads just fine and he can braid your hair for a change. Can’t you see Mommy is busy?”

Ellie didn’t see her daughter’s enormous hazel eyes fill with tears. She didn’t see anything but the tasks on her list as she worked late into the night. By the time she crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning, she had finished every task on her list for the next day, and had drawn a big red “X” through the day. Though she was exhausted, her mind raced as Ellie thought about the tasks ahead of her on her list. Her sleep was fitful.

Before the sun was up, Ellie was back at the kitchen table. She worked on her calendar, filling in the spaces for the next six months of work she needed to do. A green marker showed it was yard work, the blue marker indicated that it was an errand, paperwork was marked with orange. The red marker was saved for when she had finished the task. Her day was filled with frenzied activity, as Ellie raced against the timer.

The days flew by in a whirlwind, as Ellie busied herself with her tasks. Her red marker ran dry as she lined through tasks, then drew a red “X” through each day. She found herself getting months ahead of herself. But, Ellie wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to get organized. She wanted to get finished. She toiled endlessly.

The days flew by, the seasons changed.
********
“Hello,” Ellie muttered into the phone, as she bent her neck to hold the receiver on her shoulder.

She heard the bubbling giggle of her best friend, Amy, on the other end of the line. “Hey, Girlfriend!” laughed Amy. “Haven’t heard from you in forever! A bunch of us girls are gonna go see ‘Mama Mia’ down at the Cinemark to celebrate Teresa’s birthday. Wanna go with?”

“I can’t,” Ellie sighed. “I’ve got some things to finish here.”

“But, you lust for Pierce Brosnan (he is so delicious, isn’t he?). And, we never see you anymore,” cried Amy. “Surely, you can take some ti…”

“NO,” snapped Ellie. “Tell Teresa ‘happy birthday,’ and y’all have a good time.” Ellie slammed the receiver down and returned to polishing the silver.

The days flew by, the seasons changed.
********
“What do you mean, ‘I don’t want to go to the beach this year‘?” Michael snarled at Ellie. “Do you realize how much I paid to get this timeshare condo that you wanted?”

“Do you realize,” shouted Ellie, “that the attic is a mess, the roses need pruning, the rain gutters are full of leaves, and we have crabgrass? I don’t have time for a vacation! You go and take Monica with you. I’ll get a lot more done with the two of you out of my hair! And, don’t forget to take her flipflops and some sunscreen.”

The days flew by, the seasons changed.
********

“But, Mom,” Monica whined. “All the other girls are going with their moms! It’s Hannah Montana!”

“I’m sure you can tag along with Cindy and her mother,” snapped Ellie. “Can’t you see I have things to do here at the house?”

“No,” Monica pouted, “this stupid house is so clean you could eat off of the floor! I hate living here. It feels like a hospital!”

“Hush your mouth, young lady! Don’t sass me. When did you get your ears pierced? Is that two pierces on one ear? You look like you fell on a tackle box,” Ellie said, as she turned back to the papers she was sorting.

The days flew by, the seasons changed.
********
“We’re home alone,” Michael whispered, as he snuggled against Ellie in their king sized bed. “I just love cheerleading camp! We have a week with no teenager so we can finally have some ‘quality time’ together, if you know what I mean.” He kissed her ear and burrowed his face in her neck.

Ellie threw back the sheets and bumped him in the nose with her elbow as she leaped from the bed.

“Ow!” he cried. “What’s that all about?”

“I forgot to clean the litter box,” Ellie replied as she threw on her housecoat and ran from the room.

The days flew by, the seasons changed.
********

Michael was halfway out the door of the car, as he slammed on the brakes, and shoved the gearshift into park. The red and blue lights seemed to sparkle and dance on top of the ambulance outside his house. Inside, the paramedics struggled to place Ellie’s form on the stretcher, she had IV tubes dangling from her arms and an oxygen mask on her face.

“When did she get so frail?” Michael thought, as he looked at the bird-like form of his wife. She had lost so much weight over the years, that she seemed to be just skin and bone. Her auburn locks were streaked with gray, her lovely hands were gnarled and knotted; they were red and raw from all her scrubbing and cleaning.

“What’s going on? What happened?” cried Michael.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said one of the paramedics, as he wrenched Ellie’s calendar from her grip and handed it to Michael. “She’s had a stroke. Please step back so we can get her in the ambulance.”

Michael looked down at the calendar. Every day on that calendar was marked with a big red “X”.

“WAIT,” he cried, as he knelt beside his wife.

Ellie opened her eyes, and tried to smile at him, but only the left side of her mouth tilted upwards.

“Ellie, honey! I love you!” Michael whispered.

She tried to nod and point lifting her hand toward the calendar. Ellie mumbled something, but it was garbled, and he couldn’t understand. Michael leaned closer, with his ear to her lips.

She mumbled again, and he heard it.
“Finished,” she said.

Michael looked at the calendar in his hand with every day marked off.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, you are.”

The days flew by, the seasons changed.
********

The man tamped the last shovel full of red earth around the grave marker and stood back to admire his handiwork. Etched in the pink granite of the tombstone were the words:

“Ellie”
Elizabeth Turner Robinson
1964-2006
“She was nothing, if not organized.”

He nodded his head with satisfaction. “Organized,” he said, “now that’s something to admire in a woman, ain’t it?”