I don’t own a clothesline; I haven’t since the 80’s
but I still long for the smell of line dried clothes,
the looks of the whites bright from the natural
bleach the sun provided.
I enjoyed hanging the wet clothes on the line,
stood back to look at the picture of our lives
hung out to dry for the world to see in neat
orderly rows and colorful visions.
I miss the kids playing around the hanging
wardrobe and the slap they’d give them
as they passed by, they seemed to love
the wet cleanness against their skin.
I miss that feel of the clothes as I pinned them
to the line and later when I took down fragrant
dried laundry and folded them into the basket
before I took them inside.
I loved the smell of my crisp fresh sheets when
I’d crawl into bed at night and my husband’s white
t-shirt that I’d snuggle up too as he held his
arms out to me.
I don’t want to go back there to all the work
for after wash day came ironing day
in addition to the other tasks. I’m just so
glad I have those memories though.
November 15, 2009