Dish Duty
Grandma taught me many things, but one lesson I use every day: Dish Duty
I was too young to be much help, besides it involved a fire in the wood stove and and steaming hot water. But I sat a safe distance because I loved watching Grandma. Her hands seemed so capable. She carried the heavy kettle with hot water and poured it into a dish tub. She’d already added soap, so I watched the mountain of bubbles rise as she added the hot stream of water.
Then she lined up the dirty dishes—from silverware to the heavy pots. As she washed she told me that dishwashing was a time of reflection. She thought about her day—the things that had happened, the people she’d seen, the work she’d done. Then she’d think about those she loved, and at this point she’d look up at me and smile.
I watched as each dish was washed then rinsed, and then placed in her dish rack. She wasn’t done until each plate had been dried with her long cloth “tea” towels, as she called them.
From start to finish it was almost an hour, but she’d told me about her day, the problem one of the neighbors was having, she mentioned my aunt and the hard time she was having at work. But as she hung up the towels to dry, she said, “Doing dishes isn’t a chore, when you use the time to think.”
A few years later, I took over dish duty from Grandma. And as she sat where I used to, she’d listen to my day and the things that had happened and the people I’d seen. I spoke about what I hoped to do when I got older. As I hung up the towels to dry when I was finished, I felt I done more than just helping out. I felt like I’d discovered how to enjoy it.
Of the many things Grandma did for me, seeing dish duty as a time of reflection was a gift that has kept it from ever becoming a chore.
