If you are like this reporter, the return home for the holidays is a trip to both remember and forget. After a day of travel, you lie awake on your parent’s couch, questioning which is older: the dinosaur sheets tucked into the couch cushions or the couch itself. You begin to question more. How did you end up here? Why didn't your flight get cancelled? When is Reba to announce her presidential bid thus saving us all? She's a survivor, are you?
Just as the dream fairy shuts your eyes- that's when you hear it, a quick click like the drop of a tiny anvil followed by the sudden churning of water. Water working and flowing so mechanically it can only be one thing, the dishwasher.
Your father's voice plays out in your head, "It's like falling asleep to the sound of the ocean." Says a man who's never seen the ocean. The ruckus continues, growing wider and louder as if this 1989 Kenmore knows you are in the next room with no walls to levee the sound. As if, it knows you are back home for just one awful, sleepless night.
Finally, dawn breaks. At breakfast your father looks to you as if he's gifted you the winning lottery numbers. Sipping his coffee, he feels confident you are well rested and it's all thanks to him. Him and his 1989 Kenmore which brings the comforts of Palm Beach right into his Missouri kitchen. With a mouthful of turkey bacon he asks you his favorite question, "So . . . how'd you sleep?"
They don't make them like they used to, which is to say, they make them much better now. That's when you decide to honor the season of giving and update your parents' dishwasher. . . whatever the cost.
If you are like this reporter, you need a vacation.
