Laundry Day
Bev Vines-Haines
In 2007 I hung my laundry out to dry for the last time. Hubby bought me a dryer and said it was my next five birthdays and at least two Christmases. Since I’m still paying dearly for the refrigerator he bought when we had our first baby, I don’t doubt him.

I remember that last wash day clearly. Ever stood in the Texas sunshine and looked at clothes hanging on the line? You should. You really should. I used cloth diapers. No one else used them anymore but I have to admit I really do like them. Little white rectangles marching across the yard and billowing in the breeze.  Always made me think of those cemeteries in France. I don’t know why.

But it is the sheets I loved the most. Seven years with Clyde back then and I can honestly say sheets drying in the sun represented my most authentic love. The whiteness of white sheets can almost blind a woman. And that delicious smell of sun and wind. More intoxicating than the bottle of Mogen David I keep hidden under the kitchen sink.

The dryer is nice. Works night and day and rain or shine. Thing is, the sheets don’t smell like sunshine anymore. I hate that. And when I bury my nose in that ‘no smell’ pillow case every night it gives me freedom to think. I can see myself running free from Clyde and right out into the sunshine. I truly can see that.



First published: February 2017
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