Over the Kitchen Sink

Over the Kitchen Sink

Trudy Snyder

 

          Particles of sawdust drifted through the sunlight, building a thin carpet of wood shavings on the kitchen floor.

          “Where do you want your dishwasher?” one of the carpenters shouted above the blare of a circular saw.

          “I don’t,” I hollered back. He froze in his tracks.

          “You don’t want a dishwasher?”

          “No. I’d sooner have the cabinet space,” I confessed, but that was only a half-truth. I had other reasons for not wanting a dishwasher.

          First, I never minded washing dishes; it gives me time to think, time to relive special moments of my past and time to daydream of ones to come. But mostly I use my sink time to thank God for my many undeserved blessings.

          Above my stainless-steel double sink is a window that offers a grand view of our backyard. Beyond the yard is a field which ends in the woods. No cars, houses, or roads can be seen from that window, yet I’m bombarded with visitors: whitetail deer, gray squirrels, and sometimes an occasional fox or red squirrel. I’ve seen rabbits and many wild birds ranging in size from a wild turkey to a humming bird. They feel safe here, and I’m grateful for the front row seat to free entertainment. These moments of pleasure might escape unnoticed if I were busying myself elsewhere while the dishes washed themselves.

          Many problems have been solved over the kitchen sink. Tension dissolves and words come easier when our hands are physically engaged. Because washing dishes requires almost no mental effort, our minds are free to brainstorm for solutions, opportunities, new ideas, or whatever needs our attention at that time. But what stands out in my mind the most, are common, everyday events.

          I recall off-the-record conversations with my sister, reviewing spelling words with my kids, planning family vacations, swapping grandma’s recipes, sharing jokes, and fretting over job changes. There were in-depth discussions about the Bible and world events, and more than once we agreed to disagree. Then there’s that priceless commodity we savor more than precious gold: laughter.

          I’ve laughed a lot over my kitchen sink, proving that just feeling good and loving life is possible even in common, everyday places. I glance across my kitchen-in-progress. No, there’s no room for a dishwasher. I’d sooner have the cabinet space.

 

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