Step into the sanctuary of dishwashing. Find a symphony of sound and light. Hear the clinking as one dish touches another, and plinking as silverware nestles together. Like a visit to the museum, a Jackson Pollock of food lingering everywhere–tomato sauce here, chopped parsley there. Follow the dance of arms and hands from sink to rack, and back. Deep breath in, relax shoulders, slow breath out, feel the weight of each cup. Noticing how the light is reflected in the water, streaming, splashing, then following the path of no resistance, it plunges into the sink, all gathered as one, it’s gone in a flash. Grace guides every moment so no one, not me, not the dishes, gets hurt. 

I thought I hated doing the dishes. But when I enter this place, any thought of hating just melts away, down the drain.

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