Washing Clean Dishes

I woke up to the sound of the weatherman on my radio alarm clock giving a very static ridden forecast for another hot summer day. I quickly got dressed and tiptoed through the house passing my alcoholic bipolar step father asleep on the couch in the living room. He was experiencing his depressive state, so we knew to be extra quiet and cautious as to not upset him. I could see my younger brothers quietly snoozing as I tip toed past their bedroom, and I smiled with excitement. Today I did not have to cook them breakfast and keep them quiet so their father could sleep off his late night drunken outbursts. Almost to the door, I could hear my mother snoring from her bedroom. She worked night shift at a local nursing home so she slept during the day. A shadow of the woman she used to be, my mother was severely depressed living in a marriage that was falling apart and the hopelessness consumed her.

Walking out our front door and starting the mile trek on our country dirt road to meet my first employer, I felt like an albatross had been lifted from my neck. Each step I took, I could feel the stress dissipating and my body filling with excitement that I had my first job at the age of 14. My imagination was filled with ideas of things I could purchase with my earnings ranging from music to school clothes for the fall. When I reached the end of our rutted out road, I saw her sitting behind the wheel of her car eagerly awaiting me with a welcoming smile.

Maxine’s house was filled with antiques, memories, big band era music and lots of love. I quickly started dusting her memories, and she reminisced about each piece my large, clumsy teenage hands touched. She danced to swing as we quickly moved through each room filled with loving memories and beautiful stories. She had every written piece from Edgar Allen Poe, antique beer steins from all over the world, and my favorite is the beautiful loft that immediately took you back into time with the cast iron bed frames and vintage décor. Windows were washed with vinegar to maximize clarity, wood was polished with orange based cleaners, floors were swept and I was in awe at all the history in each item I touched throughout her house.

In Maxine’s dining room, she had a large curio cabinet filled with beautiful trinkets and glassware. When she told me we were going to take the items out and wash them, I remember asking her why we were washing clean dishes. I couldn’t see any dirt, and there were just a few specs of dust on the shelving which housed these intricate pieces. Maxine gave her loving laugh, and explained the fundamentals of adulthood and importance of keeping a clean house through consistent maintenance. My heart was filled with fear and anxiety that I would break these fragile pieces and she would anger like my bipolar step father, or cry and sleep for days like my depressed soul mother. When I voiced these concerns, Maxine would lovingly reassure me that I wouldn’t break anything, and if I did potentially break something it could easily be remedied with a little glue. Eventually with her kind reassuring presence, my confidence would build and I would succeed in washing each clean dish without incident.

I learned so much from Maxine and our time together. Every other Saturday I would meet her at the end of our red dirt road to go clean her home. We shared laughs, I grew to love the cheer in big band era music, I learned how to clean properly and most importantly I learned that not all adults are full of rage or deep sadness. She provided a safe haven for my tattered soul, and through her singsongy voice she would set my anxiety and fears at ease. Although I typically earned $20 a day, I learned to save money, set goals and budget wisely so I could meet my needs like school clothing and shoes, but also provide a few wants. My heart was sad when I stepped into the next chapter of my life at our local college and was no longer able to clean for Maxine.

Several years after college, I was fortunate to start a job with a local non profit that promotes change and prevention within the community I grew up in. When I would see Maxine, she constantly exclaimed her pride in me, and would ask me with a twinkle in her eye if I’ve washed any clean dishes recently. Maxine is now a resident at our local nursing home as Alzheimer’s has plagued her memories although she still remembers the time we spent washing clean dishes with that twinkle in her eye. I often wonder if she knows she taught me how to wash away so much more than a speck of dust on clean dishes.