W is for Wash

    Have you ever noticed that washing is a never ending chore?  I wash the dishes, wash the clothes, and wash myself only to find the very next day there is more to wash. Clean, clean, clean, all the day through only to have to wash, wash, and wash again and again.

     My Grandma loved to wash.  The woman was nuts about it.  The day finally came when her arthritis no longer allowed her to wash.  It caused her too much pain.  She couldn’t grip things like she once did.  She couldn’t lift things like before.  She actually mourned the day when she could no longer wash.  She actually wanted to wash the dishes, wash the windows, and wash herself. When I was younger I thought the woman was crazy.  Why would anyone mourn having someone else do all that work for her?  Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand wanting to wash myself.  Having some random health aide come in and wash my ass and lady parts would just be too mortifying even though I am sure I would appreciate the help if I needed it.

      The answer came to me just recently.  It was more the loss of her independence that she mourned.  I get that now like I never did when I was younger.  It wasn’t that she enjoyed all the work so much.  It was the fact that she could no longer do it herself.  Although I still think she was a tad off her nut for crying because she could no longer clean everything to a glistening shine, I can understand crying because she could no longer do it if she wanted too.  



      Because of that I wash and try to appreciate being able to accomplish the task myself because someday there may come a time when I will no longer be able to and then I will wish I could.