Washing Dishes in the Rented Kitchen
A poem about a shift in perspective and some thoughts on editing
I am going to own up right now and say that I am not the primary dishwasher in my household. I pull my weight, mostly. But my husband is almost always the first one up from the table, clearing dishes and getting started on the clean-up while I’m still gazing into the candle light or chatting with the kids. But I noticed something when we started taking bigger trips as a family. Dishes aren’t so bad on vacation. I kind of enjoy cleaning up after dinner in a holiday rental. Weird, right?
We always stayed in rental houses or apartments when we traveled with our kids. It meant fewer restaurants, more downtime when the kids needed it. I know the short-term rental sector has a lot to answer for when it comes to our current affordable housing crisis. But I’m pretty sure staying in hotels with kids is actually one of Dante’s Rings of Hell. You can look it up. And the best part is that renting a place with a kitchen sends you out to explore grocery stores and farmer’s markets in your chosen destination. An ideal way to feel less like a tourist and more like a temporary resident. I count some of the simple meals we’ve eaten “at home” on vacation among my favorite dining experiences.
The following is another older poem of mine. I thought of it this week and figured it would be all ready to post. But when I read through it I saw all sorts of things I wanted to change. Does that happen to you? Sometimes I revisit things and wonder how I ever thought they were done. Makes me wonder what shifted in the intervening months or years. Perhaps I just became less precious. In the case of this one I remember feeling attached to certain lines or phrases that I deleted without a second thought when I started editing this week. Why did they feel so vital a few years ago? I always try to preserve all the various iterations of a poem. It’s strange to look back at something I thought was right at the time and then see all the alterations I’ve made since. This one may get still more edits after it is posted here. Poets, how do you handle this? Do you ever decide something is permanently done? Or is the door always open to editing?
Washing Dishes in the Rented Kitchen
At home, doing the dishes
is the worst sort of drudgery.
The sameness of it all,
the familiarity of glasses and mugs,
dishes, bowls and spoons, each washed
a thousand times before
and simply waiting to be washed
a thousand times more.
At times, I think breaking them
would be a mercy to them and to me.
But in a rented kitchen,
washing the dishes is an adventure.
Hunting out the sponge or rag,
discovering the soap - an unfamiliar scent,
strange, bold lettering on the label.
The tap a mysterious mechanism,
the water striking the drain a new sound.
There are never as many things
to wash in a rented kitchen-
no forgotten vases on the counter
from the last time there were flowers,
avoided because there is no brush
to reach the bottom where blackened leaves
are stuck in the mineral rime of hard water.
In the vacation house, every mound
of clean and sparkling dishes
is the proof of a single shared meal-
four plates, four spoons, four glasses,
maybe two stems and an empty bottle
rinsed clean of wine- a perfect accounting
of a simple meal on holiday,
rushing out the door only
to see the sites or feel the sun.
I almost hurry to do the dishes
in a rented kitchen, the accomplishment
discreet, finite. There are no cupboards
I need to tidy, no drawers
I ought to organize What shall we do next
with our day? I wipe my hands dry
on a different feeling towel,
fold it neatly to dry in its place.
And every glimpse of the borrowed view
out the window over the sink
is a glimpse of something
we came here to see, whether we knew it or not.
Cardinals in the forsythia, slated rooftops
and a curious gargoyle,
an emerald hillside dotted with cows.
And I am reminded of my own kitchen window
and smile fondly at the scene
I am surprised to find myself missing.
I reached 100 subscribers here this week and all of your congratulations and likes have been so very sweet and appreciated. This is such a lovely place to write, and you all are the very best, kindest, most thoughtful readers. Many, many thanks for the support.
I’m still at work on my sestina. Slow going. I feel like maybe one of my words is wrong. I keep having to shoehorn it into lines, while the others are easier to place. I may have to change it. But it’s fun to have the document open on my desktop. I find myself popping over when I need a break, kind of like taking a moment to do the Wordle. Sestinas are a real brainteaser. How about you guys? Any progress? Things you’ve noticed?
What I’m Reading:
As I was editing the poem above this week I started feeling muddled and insecure about my use of commas. I know, what a very poetic insecurity. I went to my shelf and grabbed Dreyer’s English a permanent Captain America “Reading is the Best Defense” bookmark at page 24, the beginning of Dreyer’s witty and wise discussion of the series comma (a.k.a. the Oxford Comma). It goes on until page 35, perhaps the most entertaining eleven pages in any grammar and style manual. I admit to being a word nerd, but the whole book is so fantastic and funny, you’ll never be able to stop with commas.
I returned to one of my favorite new-to-me mystery series this week with the seventh novel in Deborah Crombie’s Duncan Kinkaid & Gemma James series, A Finer End. It’s set in Glastonbury, UK, a place we visited on our first trip to England. I really love reading novels set in places I’ve been. I’m a bit obsessed with maps and love orienting myself in a story by looking up the streets and locales mentioned. A word nerd and a geography nerd. I always made my kids read books set in our vacation destinations. They actually appreciated that. But I’ve yet to get them excited about maps.
Here on Substack:
You simply must visit
in Notes this month as she tells us the stories of 31 medieval women writers in honor of Women’s History Month. Her Notes have been some of my favorite reading here this week.
And
’s post this week on why she doesn’t celebrate Mother’s Day, despite enthusiastically celebrating mothers rang all the bells for me.
Thanks for reading, all! Have a great weekend.
I might tweak small things without making a new copy, but if I'm going to tackle major edits I always create a page break and paste a new copy of the poem below the first one... and so on, and so on. I've got some really long documents for a single poem!
This poem makes so much sense to me. I think dishes on holiday or when I'm at someone else's house don't seem daunting because there is a finality to the process. I will be done them for good by the end of the evening or the end of the weekend. But at home, they go on forever.😶
I wrote three stanzas of the sestina this week, but they're not giving me any feelings. I I like my words though. So I'll start again and see how it goes.
As for edits, both poems and stories are always open to edits for me. The words aren't sacred, the meaning is. So if I figure out a way to more clearly share that, I'll edit forever. But I do keep all my old drafts as well. Just in case. :)