Ancient Rhythms

Our dishwasher recently broke. That day felt like a disaster. I couldn’t imagine life without the dishwasher.

And then I could.

As we learned we’ll wait a few weeks until the new dishwasher arrives, I settled into the reality that I’d wash dishes by hand. And I thought of others in the world also washing dishes by hand–by a creek, in a basin, in a steaming kitchen somewhere.

Here we are, washing dishes by hand, as it once was everywhere and still is in most places, before the dishwasher. 

After each meal, the ancient ritual begins: the hot, soapy water, the gentle care of each dish and glass, the drying. How quickly I felt connected to something larger when a modern convenience dies.

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