She started washing dirty dishes when she was only 9 years old. The mother would peel the potatoes and pulled meat from the freezer. A homemade soup simmered on the stove. Cornbread along side was a regular staple. Each and every night her small daughter would clean up behind the family after they consumed their meal. There was a quality check made afterwards to confirm that the dishes did not have a greasy residue. If the Step-father found them to not pass the squeaky clean test back into the sink they would go. The stove should shine with a resilient glow. Not a speck or drop of mess in sight.
As she grew older the dirty dishes were always there. A reminder of her obligation and a reason to second guess her ability to do a good job. Many things transpired that gave this child a reason for self-doubt. Regardless, she kept moving forward. Growing into a woman with children and family of her own.
Many years passed that included dirty dishes. It is after all a normal thing in life. Over time she grew to realize that the task she did for her own family was not intertwined with the task that she had as a child. She was ruled by a discipline that would turn to fear in an instance. Leaving her only to strive to do her best even though it was most likely never good enough.Things transpired during those times to set a familiar subconscious effect.
Mouths to feed and portions to make ensuring all had an equal part. One by one she would evenly distribute to those she loved. Afterwards repeating her regular task. The value she received by separating one time frame from the other was that the things she did for her family was completely out of love. An independent and automatic reaction to care for her families needs. Sometimes things seem the same... But many times they are totally different.
Dirty Dishes
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