Two Brothers

Two brothers standing at the sink where they've stood many times before. Two brothers standing washing forks and spoons and plates and bowls all covered in blueberry pie.

One brother brings dishes in and stacks them by the other's side. Then he goes back outside for more. This one is in a hurry.

The other works more slowly, rinsing most of the plates and bowls before setting them into his carefully tended suds, drying each glass, drying each dish, taking his time. This one is in no rush.

There is, after all, plenty of time. There is still much daylight left. And there will be enough time to watch the sun set and even enough to listen to taps from a silhouetted musician at the end of the dock.

But the first brother doesn't see it so. His rambunctious three kids are waiting outside: one in a hammock wanting to swing, one running around with a bottle in hand, and one in a life jacket waiting for her daddy to row her around the lake, which he will.

So whereas the second brother is in no rush and is content to take his time, the first finds this time-taking an obstacle of sorts. And he takes the stacked plates covered in blue blueberry juice, and he dumps them into his brother's clean water. He dumps them there, and in the blink of an eye he washes them and rinses them and stacks them to dry.

And then he walks away.

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