washing the dishes
can be as transcendent
as a walk in the woods.
In my simple life
the inside becomes
more important
than the outside.
In my simple life
the near is
more important
than the far.
In my simple life
freedom is
more precious
then profit.
In my simple life
I have time
to do shit
like write this post.
Now,
time to
wash
the dishes.
Ah-ha!
My ex-husband's grandmother lived through the Holodomor. Whenever we had a big family meal at her house afterward we would all volunteer to help her wash the dishes and her response was always the same: "No, no, no. I love to wash dishes. When there are dishes to wash it means there was food and people were eating." We never denied her what, judging from the tears that always welled up in her eyes, was a simple but heartfelt joy. She would wash, one of us would dry and another would put things away. It was a beautiful ritual.
ReplyDeleteSome of my cherished memories are of family around in the kitchen, preparing meals or doing dishes. It was the very heart and center of the home.
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