Another Post About Drying Dishes

After everyone has gone home, I’m in the kitchen washing the Thanksgiving dishes. I’m particularly careful with the two glasses that Katie and I used for wine - we got them on our honeymoon in Italy when we visited the island of Murano.

I remember the artist seemed to speak only Italian, and he etched the outside of the glass with practiced flair, then signed his name on the base with a small power tool that whined when he touched  it to the glass.

I wash and dry it carefully, being watchful to pay attention to where it is so I don’t bang it on anything, and I think about how precious it is to me, how potentially fragile and in need of my protection, how much it's like a marriage.