We moved into our house a little over a year ago. It is the first home we’ve owned. Our very own 4 walls. It has the quaintest little back yard with an orange tree in the back corner, it has a laundry room which was a big step up for us. My kids each have adorable rooms, and there are two bathrooms! And probably my favorite part of the home when I saw it was the beautiful original hard wood floors in the main living areas. When we toured the house I knew it was mine, I HAD to have it. I needed our family’s history to be added to the already established history of the house. I could see my babies growing up here, I could see a Christmas tree in the big window, and I could see birthday cakes in the kitchen nook.
There was just one problem.
There was no dishwasher. Easy fix I thought. Simple kitchen remodel and we can squeeze in a dishwasher. Or a portable one. No Biggie.
Well once we moved in I realized I didn’t want to mess with the integrity of the space. I loved every quaint inch of my kitchen. And so we embraced hand washing our dishes. At first I was worried I would hate it. But quite the opposite has happened. We actually bicker about who “gets” to wash the dishes.
There’s something therapeutic about the hot soapy water. It takes about 30 minutes sometimes to wash and rinse. And those 30 minutes are where I sometimes do my best thinking. I sometimes will listen to something, but often I just wash. I scrub and rinse and as the hot water washes over my hands I find many answers to worries on my heart. I tune out the outside world and I focus on this one simple task.
And so- we have decided we will continue to hand wash our dishes. And my heart is just fine with that.
