Her Kitchen Sink

She cocks a hip and submerges both rough hands into the sink full of hot water and bubbles.

She sighs as she reaches for the first dirty dish. The first of many.

Her lower back aches, her feet twinge and her shirt sticks to her back with sweat.

She looks up and out.

The window that holds that view…sweeping panoramic shot that movie directors have tried time and time again to capture in three hour films of artistic beauty. She knows every blade of grass, each tough twig of sage and how the air feels up on the mountains in the distance.

She’s stood before this sink and many others much the same.

To say the view soothes her soul and quiets her fears would be a romanticed view of the life she leads…a townie’s aching desire that someone’s life is far different than hers because of geography and the term “cowboy”.

But it is comforting because of its familiarity, this view looking over her kitchen sink and as the last dish is rinsed and set to dry, she is thankful for the life she lives.

No more, no less.

xo xo Liz