The Dishes

                Fluffy soap bubbles flew onto the clean dishes as she scrubbed the same pan for the 4th time this week. She laid the pan back down and rinsed the clean dishes off with the sprayer. When she finished, she rested her hands on either edge of the sink and spent the next few moments hanging her head in what—she hoped—was a look of desperation. 

                She turned her head to the right just enough to get a glimpse of the neighboring window. She didn't want to be too obvious. As it turns out, her fear was unfounded. The blinds of the window across the way were shut and motionless.

                She sighed in both relief and annoyance. She hadn’t prepared herself outwardly today like she usually did. She was in too big of a rush this morning to do her usual touch-ups. Still, she felt a twinge of disappointment that her performance wasn’t for an audience.

                She had laundry to get to, but what if she missed something in her moments away?

                Being a stay-at-home mother was both tedious and monotonous. She was in a constant state of tired of the same thing while full of energy for something new. Getting acclimated to this new way of life wasn’t easy in the beginning. Other parents would bond over the stress of endless chores and mountains of laundry. At first, she felt similarly and could empathize with the loss of a sense of self. Now, she had only one gnawing question for every lifeless parent standing awkwardly at the park. She would never ask it, but she looked for answers in each person’s demeanor as they discussed ever-changing children’s shoe sizes.

                On one occasion, a woman she had become close with asked her what her favorite thing about staying home with the kids was. Realizing that this might be her only chance to test the waters, she replied,

                “The secrets".

                When the woman shot her a look of confusion, she realized her potential mistake and corrected herself,

                “The dishes.” She said quickly, “The dishes are my favorite part.”

                The other mother smiled and nodded.

That was a risk, she thought, and maybe not one worth taking again for a while.

                A few moments later, the other mother shot her a look out of the corner of her eye that disappeared so quickly, it almost went unnoticed.

                The women’s gaze settled back on her own child before she said quietly,

                “The dishes are my favorite, too.”

                That is when she knew.