I did the dishes

 I’m in the kitchen doing the dishes. There is a massive pile of dirty dishes and leftovers sitting on the kitchen floor unattended for the last two days. Dad’s away, so it’s up to me to do the dishes and take the trash outside. In other words, I got to get rid of the baggage. It’s my favourite house chore, doing the dishes. I find inexplicable peace in it. Rinse and repeat, making everything shiny and spotless. 

It’s cold as usual. My socks are wet, and it’s okay. Usually, I don’t leave the dirty dishes unattended for long. I just can’t. Even if that dirty plate or bowl or cup isn’t that dirty, to begin with. To me, if it’s dirty, it’s dirty. There’s no middle ground. As always, I put on some music and clean one dirty dish after another. Everything happens involuntarily, like a popular ritual. 

My hands move swiftly under the cold running water while my mind moves swiftly from one warm conversation I had today to another. I think about Bee’s ( my sweetest internet friend) long, thoughtful, and wholehearted Christmas text, and it warms my heart. I think about my conversation with Christian ( another lovely internet friend of mine) and how excited he was to eat the Lasagna his mom made for lunch on Christmas. I think about Shahid ( godfather to my future kids, for I could never trust anyone else with such a responsibility) and how he was starting my favourite Castlevania game this weekend on my recommendation. 

I think about my big sister, Anya, who spent all night long yesterday talking to me, listening to me, and understanding my pain, my sorrow and my expectations from this godforsaken empty idiotic world. She tells me that my Sun is in Virgo, my Moon is in Cancer, my Venus is in Libra, and my Rising is Leo. She tells me that it’s okay to be who I’m, to be different, to love a little more than others, to feel a little more than others, to expect a little more than others. She tells me that it’s all okay, and I find comfort in being myself.

At some point, my thought crosses to the pain I have experienced and the expectations that didn't meet, and I sigh and flush these thoughts down the kitchen sink naturally. When all the dishes are clean, I go to the washbasin in the living room and wash my face. Freezing water trickles down my fringes, my cheeks and my chin. I look up, and I look closely into my eyes. Hope faintly appears. I smile.