learning to love laundry
a poem dedicated to my sister and fellow laundry reporter, edythe.
the months are marked by endless cycles of laundry. stains of ketchup fireworks, oil slicked horseplay, and tipsy kisses swish to the harmony of detergent and hot-cold water. the sun completes its journey every five loads of the mundane and extraordinary fighting for dominance. but, their colors won't bleed, because i've washed them gently. each revolution is a twirl in the mud and mess of each day. and while we clean, the essence of the days walking past the washer and dryer will never wear away.
laundry is ALWAYS better with you my girl