Scrubbed Clean, Soaked in Joy

Describe your most memorable vacation.

Vacations are often sold as sandy beaches, chilly hills, and five-star comforts. But the one etched deepest into my memory had no resort, no room service — just a mountain of steel vessels, a riverside, and an endless supply of soap suds.

It was October 2014. We took a 10-day break from work and headed to my grandparents’ village — the kind of place where the mobile network disappears faster than your will to check emails. A full house awaited us: cousins, uncles, aunties, laughter, and chaos echoing under the warmth of a tiled roof.

Each day followed a sacred ritual.
“Rise and shine… and scrub.”
My aunt and I were promoted (without consent) to the Dishwashing Department. Morning breakfast? Wash vessels. Mid-morning snacks? Wash again. Lunch? You guessed it. Evening tea? Another round. Dinner? Don’t even ask. Somewhere between these cycles, we’d romantically wander down to the river — to wash clothes, of course! Nature’s washing machine, minus the quick-wash option.

Did we visit places? Sure — the local church, a hidden waterfall, the nearby beach. But when I rewind that trip, it’s not the sightseeing I recall. It’s the giggles while rinsing plates, stories whispered over teacups, and the strange joy of drying cutlery under the open sun.

“Sometimes the best memories are scrubbed into your soul, not clicked into your phone.”

No alarms. No Teams pings. Just the clinking of utensils, the rustling of trees, and the unfiltered joy of togetherness.

Thought to ponder:
In a world chasing luxury, maybe all your soul really needs is a full sink, a fresh breeze, and a family that laughs even while scrubbing.