Cleaning the Clothes
A cool breeze touches my skin
And I close my eyes
A memory washes over me
Through my hair
And I smile
Slowly
Lingering there
Standing there, here by a pile of clothes
Under the evening sun gently swaying from the sky
Inside the breeze cascading off the lake
And at long last I open my eyes
To the memory of first when
We washed our clothes
Here in the cooling
Touch of life
Do you close your eyes still and see it too
The early morning light whispering of the coming day
In tides of the sweet lullaby sighed from her lips
A loon out there in the mist
Singing as we talked
As we laughed
Splashed
Laundry in the spring of summer
Two friends knee deep in cooling waters
Glimmering under the newly born sun
And still in the quiet of day I linger here
In the memory of that lesson
Born in a splash
A laugh
“Colours first and separate from the whites,” said you
And I smiled with a rolling of my eyes
“Yuh, whatever,” said I with flicking splash
So it was that you splashed back with a lean look
“Right, colours first,” agreed I
As the water ran down my face
“And?” said you with prod of your toe
I shrugged
On came the splash
“Okay! Okay! Separate from the whites!”
I grinned
And you laughed
“You have to know how to do this
Especially in today’s society,” chided you to me
“Oh, really?” replied I with a playful splash to you
“Isn’t that a package deal when I have a . . .”
But you never let me finish that thought
I laugh now in the memory of my sputtering cough
The fresh and thrilling chill of the water
And the look in your eyes
Daring me to finish my sentence
But wisely I said nothing
Except to smile
“No one is going to do your laundry for you,” said you
I remember nodding as if in agreement
Very solemnly
And again you splashed me
“What?!”
I said laughingly
“What was that for?!”
“You know what,” said you frostily
“I totally agreed with you!”
“Uh, huh,” said you nodding as if you knew something
“Its about being independent,” finally said you
After a long quiet moment
And I did not grin
Or smirk
But you splashed me anyway
Maybe just a little smirk
Afterwards as we hung our clothes out to dry
I remember thinking and saying playfully so
“You know I do have a washing machine,
After all this is the age of technology . . ?”
I’m still not sure when it was that I found myself
Wearing you shoe
But I remember thanking you
Yes, I remember that much
For sure . . .
Copyright © Neal Freeland | Year Posted 2006
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