The Dishes

by Justine C. Tajonera

Sometimes the world
seems overwhelming,
starting with our messy
kitchen and the toys
on the floor.

I wake you
from your sleep.
You can tell something
from the grip of
my hand
and the tremor
in my voice,
just as you can tell
something from
our son's silence
or his mischievous
smile.

We talk over
Chai milk tea
and toasted
bagels,
your eyes holding
mine
steady,
never letting
go.

We do the dishes
together.
I wash them,
you dry them and
stack them away
so the water
doesn't collect
at the base of
the dish rack.

And this is enough.
You hold me together
in our silence
as we stand over
the kitchen
sink.

(March 17, 2010)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/flyingturtle/386532299/