Standing at the Kitchen Sink
As I stand at the kitchen sink, I ask my mother who she’s voting for. She carefully wrings out a coffee filter and places it on the radiator to dry. We’ve just finished our coffee break.
I look at her, puzzled. "The garbage is weighed here, so the less water in the bin, the lower the cost!" she explains.
I notice a coffee stain on my corduroy pants, seeping into the ribbed fabric. As a child, I also had a pair of corduroy pants. Made of brown fabric, my mother had bought them from one of the thrift stores where we purchased our clothes. Whenever I wore them, the corduroy fabric on my thighs would rub together, making a rustling sound.
"You know," my mother continues, "in those days, everything was different. We had to make do with what we had."
She tells me about her childhood in a small village during the war. Her father was a farmer, and her mother had to manage the household with limited resources. They grew their own food and made their own clothes.
I listen intently to her stories. I realize that my mother’s upbringing has shaped her values and her approach to life. She has taught me the importance of thrift and sustainability, and she has passed on her resilient spirit.
"You have to be resourceful," she says. "You can’t always rely on others."
I nod in agreement. I understand the wisdom in her words.
She looks at me, her eyes full of pride. "I’m proud of you," she says. "You’ve grown into a strong and independent woman."
I smile back at her. "Thank you, Mom," I say. "I’m lucky to have you."
We stand together at the kitchen sink, united by our shared memories and values. I think about all the women who came before us, who faced challenges with courage and determination. I am grateful for their legacy and for the lessons they have taught us.
As I leave the kitchen, I take a moment to reflect on the simple wisdom I’ve learned from my mother. I realize that it’s not the material possessions we accumulate that matter most, but the values we live by and the relationships we cherish.
And I remember the coffee stain on my corduroy pants, a reminder of the struggles and sacrifices that have paved the way for my life today.
