For some, being thankful can occur in many ways and may be derived from unusual sources.  As Thanksgiving draws nigh, I reflect upon, and am thankful for the childhood memories which evolved around cleanup after a scrumptious family meal of turkey, ham, dessert, and all the trimmings. 

    My siblings and I did our best to assist in the cleanup which included washing dishes.  Although they did more grumbling and complaining than dishwashing, I didn’t complain because I didn’t think it was as bad as it appeared.  I would fill the sink with warm water, add dish detergent and revel in thoughts. 

    The tingling warmth from the water was soothing and served as a form of therapy for me.  The large, frothy bubbles seemed to cast a spell over everything that troubled me.  Now, many years later, I am thankful for the simplicity of water and what was realized so many years ago…. Washing dishes is therapeutic for me.

    As I wash dishes, I get lost in a rhythmic dance of dunking dishes, washing them, rinsing, and finally drying them.  Washing dishes by hand is always relaxing for me although my dishwasher is just steps away.  With a sink full of warm soapy water, and a cotton dishrag, washing dishes helps me unravel happy memories of the past that has now evolved into the present. 

    I am thankful for the peacefulness that I find when I wash dishes because it is then that I became lost in the ritual of soap sudsy labor because of its therapeutic worth and it is essential.  I prefer washing dishes to almost any other household chore because I know I will gain therapeutic rewards as soon as I begin the process.

    In a complex world that has been filled with endless challenges which seems to have neither beginnings nor endings, when I wash dishes, it reminds me that everything in life is not complicated.  Some things in life are simple and easily completed.  Plate by plate, glass by glass, fork by fork, and pot by pot, order derives out of washing dishes.  If only the rest of our lives were that simple. 

    Whenever I wash dishes, I get solitude to scrub away grease and grime which reminds me of shedding away debris that clouds my thoughts.  Solutions to any problems that I elude to during the day, appear to calmly settle as if they’ve been waiting for me to calm down, and relax so that I can solve them. 

    As I wash dishes the tensions that I’ve encountered, soon leave and I am able to gain better perspectives on things.  I am not glorifying the task of dishwashing because it is not like a long soak in a warm, soothing bubble bath or sauna surrounded by sweetly scented candles and it will never come close to the clean, replenished thought during a brisk walk along winding paths in a garden.  In a chaotic world that is filled with the hustle and bustle of activity and frustration, dishwashing is the ivy of a first snowfall, it is the conversation that occurs between cooing doves and it is the closes that can be found between the shepherd and his sheep. 

    A kitchen that has been thrown into disarray because of preparing that tasty Thanksgiving meal can at some point be reverted back to its normal state of order with good-old-fashioned therapeutic dishwashing.