by Lisa

All that needs to be done are the dishes.  With dishes comes the usual sequence of wiping-down of countertops and sink and cabinet fronts…

What I’m saying is that I have a few chores to do.

In this Yellow Cottage, today, the small person tidied and polished the Octagon and did cat duty without being asked. She’s done her part in the kitchen, more than I have.

The Octagon is a mid-century-modern yard sale purchase from two blocks away. She discovered that treasure and she feels responsible for its keeping.  That table may be her first real treasure.  She wants it to stay shiny and unmarred.  The table I’d chosen, a year ago, I chose because of the number and quality of its mars.  She did not appreciate them the way that I did, so now, we have a table that seats eight in a kitchen that feeds two regularly.  With four ancient chairs, somehow, it works.

Long view becomes apparent: she likes company.  She’s a people person, subtly.

I must like company, too.  I have plates-cups-bowls-you-name-it for twelve.  Those are only the rocket-age porcelain special company dishes, still unused except for tea parties for two.  The diner dishes, everyday-tough, unbreakable, but heavy enough to break toes, stay in constant rotation.  Years ago, I had diner-dish service for twenty-five.  I might still have as many, packed away, but I forget them because of why and how they were packed.

But, despite the details of hidden kitchenware, I need to do the dishes.  There aren’t many to do.

And the table is already spotless.