I have not had a dishwasher for about three years now. I complain quite often about that fact. When people say, “oh, we don’t like washing dishes, but it’s not too bad” I tell them it is if you wash dishes by hand.
However. For as much as I complain, I do not think I will get another one – at least not until I have to wash dishes for a husband and our mini-mes.
To start, I know those dishes are clean. With an actual dishwasher, I’m always wondering if those water spots are actually food smeared or if the water just rinsed the yuck off instead of cleaning it.
Today, as I’m getting caught up on over a week of dishes (it’s been a long, long week), I picked up a glass that looked like one of my great-grandma’s glasses. Immediately, I flashed back to washing dishes by hand with her when I would spend the night or weekend with her. We didn’t really talk much while we were washing dishes, unless planning what dessert to make next, but standing next to her as I washed and she dried was enough.
I cannot make a pan of brownies or a batch of cookies without thinking of her telling me to make two – one for her and one for me.
When I do laundry, and have to go downstairs to do so like at her place, I think of her waking up around 0400 to beat me to doing her laundry when I was there to help her. She was easily one of the most sneaky and stubborn women I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and as a private medical transport EMT for 3.5 years, I met plenty.
For whatever reason though, it’s always when I’m doing the dishes that I miss her the most.
I was house-sitting and ran out of dish soap one time. I ran to the store and grabbed a small bottle of something relatively cheap but knew worked. I never remember what brand of soap she had for dishes until I open it. When I got back to the house and put it on the washcloth, I ended up sliding down the cupboards to the floor and just sat there crying because I missed her. It was the same soap.
When I sat down to write this, I wondered for a moment why it was hitting me so hard today. Looking at the calendar, I realize her 100th birthday would be in about a month. and in 9 days will make 6 years since she went home to God and our family gone before her.
I drive by her house sometimes. There’s a family living there. How? I don’t know because it was a one bedroom place, but there are kids toys. That may mean there is another grandma or great-grandma living there, washing dishes by hand with and telling stories to her grandbabies – memories to last a lifetime.