Last night, after dinner, I had an epiphany.
I. Enjoy. Doing. The. Dishes.
Under the right circumstances, of course.
Will had taken the girls upstairs to shower them, and I was alone in the kitchen. The sun was setting, and I have a nice view of that from my window by the sink. The water was hot and sudsy, it was quiet. It was peaceful, therapeutic even.
Is that strange? Is it weird to enjoy washing the pots and pans from a pleasant family dinner?
As a kid I liked washing the dishes, too. My parents kitchen window faces the same direction, into the sunset. Only their window faces out into the street, so as a youth I would watch children out playing. I could watch our neighbors come and go. I, of course, would never admit that I enjoyed it, because that would be wrong (especially as a teenager!) but I did. I enjoyed it, hear that, Mom? Thank you for making me do the dishes, thank you for helping me learn some responsibility. Thank you.