Behind it, the windows are grimy and flecked with water spots from the many times that little hands are washed here. The compost bucket beneath the sink is starting to smell and there's a pile of dishes waiting, waiting. I see these mundane things and more. I notice them and without judgement I let the thought go. For now, I'm choosing to bathe in the beauty - the first pale pink hydrangea flowers plucked by chubby hands and retrieved before they were gobbled up, smooth leaves and shells in shades of blush and cream, coriander flowers, the greying sky outside and the butcher bird who visits for tit bits come dinner time. From this same window I've watched sprinkler play and subsequent mud fights, a little boy squint his eyes to the sky at every passing plane. I've seen the wattle blossoms replaced by grevillea and soon, jacaranda. A seasonal slide show.
I take three deep breaths, notice the tension in my shoulders and pause for a tiny moment. Soon I'll be sauteing onion and garlic with a babbling baby on my hip. Weary bodies will resort to bickering and calm voices will take extra effort. And like any other evening the night time rhythm will unfold and I'll be swept along with the business of it all swaying from task to task seemingly on autopilot. But here, at this windowsill I'll be mindful of my body, my breath, my home.
So amidst the baskets of washing, the endless meal preparations and clean ups this week, perhaps you could find a little slice of quiet on your windowsill. Find a new home for the bottle of dish washing liquid and replace it with a vase of eucalyptus blossoms, or perhaps a little pot of thyme. An essential oil burner or a candle, a seed pod or a shell; a windowsill vignette to help you slow for a few moments each day, take a few breaths and create a more mindful home.