She hadn’t been home for more than an hour when I heard the clink, clink, clink from her kitchen. Dishes being rearranged. Reclaiming the space I had kept safe for her. Everything back just where it belonged. No pause for a thank you.
Clink, clink, clink.
I didn't stop trying.
“Mom, where do you put these little saucers? Up here next to these other ones by the bowls, or over here by the coffee cups?”
It matters where you put the dishes, if you try to put the puzzle back together or if you just shove them in the first available space. It says more than words.
No matter how hard I tried, it seems I never got it exactly right. Not even in my own home.
“Hey, Mom? Just like you have a spot for each of your dishes at your house, it’s taken me a long time to figure out where mine fit best. If you could just put the plates up on this shelf, I’d really appreciate it.”
I tried to use my best voice, the one that shows appreciation, the one that claims my turf but is willing to share it. It didn’t work. Not that day.
“Melissa, you really don’t need to be that way.”
She has no idea how long it’s taken me to learn to be this way.
Clink, clink, clink. Day after day she unloads the dishwasher her way.
Clink, clink, clink. I put the dishes back in their homes.
For three weeks the dance continued. It wasn’t worth a fight. Who knows how many more times she will be here to unload my dishwasher? As a wise woman once wrote, when those you love get to a certain age, you start measuring your life left with them in teaspoons. And, I suppose, you stop expecting change.
But, maybe, it’s when we stop expecting something and learn to accept what is, that we get just what we were looking for.
For three weeks, we had loved as best we could. We had laughed, and cried, and gotten angry. And then, when it was almost time for her to go…
“Melissa? You put these plates up on this shelf, right? I can’t reach up there so well. I’ll just leave them here for you to put them where you want.”
It matters where you put the dishes. It says so much more than words.
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Comments
This was deeply moving. There is a feeling you captured in this piece that resonates so well in the hearts of those who love truly and faithfully while wrestling with our all too human fabric.
Thank you for expressing something beautiful while offering the gentlest of nudges we need.
Rated and appreciated.
skeletn- Exactly that kind of moment. Something so small but so significant. And you do matter!
Lorraine - In all honesty, I can't tell you how many times I thought about some of your posts as I was making my way through each day of the holidays. It's an amazing gift that you share with us and one that I know will far outlast my days on OS.
I'm, of course, taking the dishes down from the shelves. Your gorgeous words will help me remember and love the hands that put them there. xo
When you look at the big moments in life, you'll find they are comprised of so many little moments. Bravo for you, to see the little moments and know how they will jig-saw together to make a bigger moment.
Rated.
R
bah - thank you.
Geoff- It's a daily thing with kids isn't it, no matter how old the kid is. Write your post, I beat it would be a good laugh!
Alison - Ha! I have so much old china, we probably own matching sets of Wedgewood that will never see food again. Such a tender feeling, touching the things that had been so carefully placed by someone we loved.
Bill - Yes, that's exactly what it felt like. A small moment that was an important part of something much bigger.
Donna- I hope that's true, I'm trying to hang on to the good stuff.
Frank - Nicely said, as usual. Thanks.
This was great fun to read, my mom and I have the opposite roles as your family. What does it say about me that I crack open MY OWN cupboards to fit a pan inside and then hold the door shut until the rumbling stops? So of course I need to be reprimanded at my mother's house for not following the order of things. And she (or the hubby when he's had enough!) neatly rearranges my kitchen when she visits because it bothers her so much. I don't mind if they "fix" it, I simply don't care either way. Thanks for another great post!
Hoop - Good thinking. That rearranging stuff can mess up the best of us.
Heron - I'm really a crammer too. I almost died once when our kids played hide and seek with a babysitter and I realized she had seen inside all of my closets! Our kitchen is so small it's the one place I am semi-organized because otherwise I would go crazy.
Ann - That's a nice way to think about it.
Thank you for illustrating something I hoped would be possible.
Patricia - I know you understand this from your heart, from your life.
next - Don't give up hope. For over 40 years this hadn't been how it went between my mother and me. Change isn't painless but sometimes it does happen.
Indeed. This was beautiful Melissa. I am touched.