Laundry Day

I might be crazy. Probably am. But I love laundry day. 

Something so simple, so...clean. 

Washing the dirt and grim from the previous days, the sweat of struggling, wandering, venturing out; the hard work, the "should have"s, the laziness of days wasted. A new start.

Soaking and scrubbing the tear stains, the mess of life, the wrinkles and frustrations. 

The juice spilled and I was angry at myself. How stupid. The engine grease on his jeans, my hard worker.  And I am proud. The popsicle drips that fell while we laughed until our sides hurt. And we didn't even care. The jeans that I wore for days on end, until they fit right, perfect. 

Washing clean, fresh. A new day. 

A baptism of sorts -- the worn, old, used up bits of you, immersed in water, made clean. Dried off and ready for new adventures, second chances, tears from sorrow and pure joy. 

And I wonder at the thought of being made clean. My own washing, as white as snow. Wonder also how many times have I needed to scrub out the pride, the anger, the jealousy? How many times do I need to rinse out my life, let the mess and dinge. 

Laundry Detergent Recipe Here

And I wonder more about how in the mess of it all, the stains and dirt of life, there are also good things to remember, good pulled out of the layers of dust. Pulled out with great effort at times, impossibly found and squeezed out.

It's laundry day at our little home and I am thankful for the clean.