Kitchen Miracles

I felt her in my kitchen last night.  I might even go as far as to argue with you and say that I saw her too.  I saw her only enough that I called out for her to try to confirm was my eyes were telling me. So, I called out and no one called back to me.  No one called back to me, but an overcoming sense of love washed over me in the absence of sound.  My voice drifted through the kitchen and around the corner, and the only reply was love.

And that’s enough for me.

It’s enough for me to think I saw a tiny head peeking around the corner in the middle of the night as I washed the dishes, listened to music, and danced.  I washed the dishes, listened to music, and danced in my kitchen last night because no one was there to see it. 

No one was there to see it, except her.

She saw it and I can’t help but think that she understands it.  She understands why mom choose to stay up late, while most of the chores were done, and do this very last one.  I was told once, while crying that I should use the act of washing the dishes as a meditative sport.  Wash, rinse, repeat. Be intentional and present I was advised.  Feel the warmth of the water and the repetitive movements of my hands.  When I can do those things, perhaps she will come to me.

And she did come to me.

I felt her before I saw her. I turned around thinking I’ll catch someone out of bed. Instead, it was the flash of a small person peeking around the corner and then pulling away.  ‘Hello’ I called out.  No one answered my call.  No one verbally answered my call, but a wash of love filled my soul.  It was her.  She’s watching you, Mama. Watching you wash the dishes, sing, and sway.  She’s watching you be truly present, truly engaged, and truly happy. 

Perhaps miracles can happen when we are truly present, truly engaged, and truly happy.