• simplicity

    The Meditation of Hand-washing Dishes

    The clanging of ceramic and steel, my¬† toddler “helping” unload dirty dishes. Loading in the morning only to unload that night- the second load already beckons. The slimy, not-yet clean feeling of only-rinsed dishes as I quickly file them into place. These are not my favorite things. Hot steamy water, bubbly and inviting. A quiet kitchen- I’m left alone. A joining with every other woman who has washed dishes this way. A connection to my mother, my grandmother, my childhood. Rinsing in cool water, setting them to dry in a heap, dripping, layered on a towel. Every dish fits just so. A new soapy bath waits. There is no load…