Dishes

-Elley Adkins

Mom started chemo this week.

I usually spend my nights

at home trying to sleep,

and read books.

Now I’m volunteering to cook

and mow the lawn.

And do the dishes.

I had forgotten about the dishes.

This feeling sits deep

in my chest, behind my lungs.

But you do what you can

even if it’s just the dishes.

My sister and I used to fight

over who had to do them.

Nearly every night, we’d bicker

until my mom would just get up

and do them herself.

She never complained,

never asked for much.

She just wanted us to get along. Now

I stare into a stainless steel sink. It

feels as though

my thoughts, and my pain

are just below the surface of the water,

lurking beneath the suds,

waiting patiently.

I drain the sink each night

and remind myself,

in my mother’s voice

that helplessness and hopelessness are

not an option.

So I keep washing and rinsing and

taking steps in the right direction

until the dishes are done.