We have a dishwasher and I know how it works. It allows you to hide your dirty dishes until enough of them collect to merit starting the machine to run its program. I’ve lived with this contraption for 9 years now. It serves its purpose and requires little extra maintenance. But this morning I had a different idea.
There were some pans I needed to wash by hand and to be honest I felt glad for a moment. I let the water run and warm up, I wet the sponge then added a dollop of green colored liquid detergent. I squeezed the sponge and watched a million tiny bubbles emerge between my fingers. I gave the pan a first swipe and gathered a layer of grease & fish residue from last night’s dinner. I rinsed out the 3 lemon seeds that hung on despite the violent interruption. The warm water, suds, and pliable sponge; the confident hands though wet and slippery – we conquered the pan together. As I rinsed, my fingertips probed the surface for leftover oily spots and addressed these with another pointed dab of the soapy sponge, followed by another rush of almost too hot water. With an astounding level of satisfaction, I placed the pan on the drying counter and turned my attention to the other items within reach that I could convert from dirty to clean.
I am glad to know I have not forgotten the gifts of this ritual.