It seems a shame to waste any of the allotted time given to me each day as I wash dishes at my New York farm house kitchen sink and gaze out the window directly above it . I do have the luxury of a dishwasher, but I still tend to keep the sink full of soapy water as I bake or prepare a meal. I’m kind of a “clean up as I go” type gal.
With my hands busy in the soapy water, my mind is free to wander back in time to my Mom, a farm wife, who also spent lots of time looking out her kitchen window that was also above her sink. She spent endless hours there, washing dishes, washing and peeling fruits and vegetables for freezing and canning and even shampooing my Dad’s hair. We didn’t have a shower in the bath tub so hair washing was done at the kitchen sink. Seems kind of strange now but wasn’t at the time.
Thinking back to Mom and all the work she did in the kitchen is one of my sweet spots in my memory. Life happened in the farm kitchen – not only the obvious like cooking, baking, washing dishes, washing clothes, sweeping farm “this and that” from the kitchen floor, answering and talking on the only phone in our home and eating the family meals but also visiting with anyone who happened to stop in – friends, family or neighbors, having long conversations with Mom while drying dishes and connecting in conversation with everyone who entered and departed our house. Everything and everyone came in and went out through the kitchen – it was command central.
I miss Mom a lot. She died back in 1992. I wish she were here today to share with me what she was thinking about during all those hours she spent at her farm kitchen sink. I’m sure everyone has those sweet spots in their memory that can be visited whenever some comfort is needed during the day or night. For me, all I need to do is wash some dishes at my sink, gaze out my window as I do and I’m right back there with Mom, in my memory at least.