Everything But

I know I said "Everything BUT the Kitchen Sink", but I lied.

I'm like that, you know.

Because today, I want to talk about kitchen sinks.

Growing up, the kitchen sink was a one holer with a drainboard attached. It was made out of cast iron and had a porcelain finish.

A towel would be folded over to pad the drainboard, so I could sit on it, with my feet in the sink, then my mother would wash me.

After all that, I would lie down with my head over the sink and get my hair washed.

This was done because it was winter and the bathroom was cold. The old claw foot tub was very deep and hard for me to get in. In fact, I had to be lifted in and out.

I remember all this in detail even though I was three, four years old.

When Daughter was a baby, she got baths in the kitchen sink too. It's easier on the mama's back, and when they are so small, it feels safer.

I love my own kitchen sink. It, too, is cast iron coated in porcelain. But it's a double holer and there is no drainboard attached. It's a very deep sink, and you can wash just about anything with ease.

When my mother-in-law died, Husband's sisters asked me what I wanted.

Now, my mother-in-law was one of my best friends. But she wasn't my mother, and I didn't want to "want" anything, being as I was not a daughter.

But I did want something. And I got what I wanted.

I wanted her dishrags and her dish towels.

And I wanted the kitchen sink.

We all knew the property was either going to be sold, or the house be neglected long enough that it would be in such disrepair it would need to be torn down.

So, a few months ago, Husband and another fella ventured to the house Husband grew up in. They had to trek through the woods because the drive-way is kaput.

Someone had stolen the little wood stove we wanted. But the sink was still there. So they loaded it up and brought it to me.

It is awaiting springtime. I am going to have it installed on the lower back porch. It will help wash dirty hands and pots when planting flowers and seed for the vegetable garden.

If we cookout down there, it can help hold dirty utensils and the like until they can be brought in to the kitchen.

But I really wanted it because it is lovely.

Not in the modern sense. It's seen years of use.

But it is full of the history of a family. Canning was done, potatoes and onions peeled. Okra cut up. Corn cleaned up after shucking and silking. Beans soaked, washed and 'looked' before being put on the stove to cook for hours with fat back to season them. Flour washed off hands after pinching off biscuits to put in the oven.

A  million dirty dishes washed.

And babies washed when they were little.

Bobby Gene.

Barbara Ann.

Kenneth.

David.

Brenda.

Grandbabies, too.

It's funny what winds up touching the heart, isn't it?

I guess I'm  just a kitchen sink kind of gal.