The other day I cleaned my kitchen cabinets with Murphy's Oil Soap, a rarely considered household chore. As I dipped my wash rag into the sudsy bucket and breathed the mild soap scent, it reminded me of an afternoon years ago when my parents had been visiting.
I don't recall many details of that particular visit -- when it took place, why they had come -- except that my mother had noticed that my kitchen cabinets were badly in need of attention. I came downstairs and found her washing the last cabinet, a bucket beside her and a bottle of Murphy's Oil Soap on the kitchen counter.
My mom had observed a need, and because she's my mother, she met that need. This is what mothers do.
Want to know what Murphy's Oil Soap smells like to me? It smells like a mother's thoughtfulness and love.
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