> > DANCING IN THE WIND > > Every Thanksgiving Day, people all over the country gather together to > share a bountiful meal and tell each other about the things that they are > grateful to have in their lives. > Why doesn't anyone ever celebrate the things that they don't have? > For instance, I don't have a dryer, but I have only recently begun to > sing the praises of NOT owning one. > Mine broke a year or so ago. Then, we moved to this house, and it has > neither the space nor a hose connection for one. Since the thought of > buying a dryer is totally out of the picture, I have come to accept my > fate, and I love it. > I take advantage of every sunny day. Right now, there are three loads > of laundry out there, dancing and flirting with the wind. Hanging clothes > gives me a chance to feel the sun on my face and listen to the birds > singing. And the scent! Oh, one sniff takes me back to a summer afternoon > of long ago. > My mother was hanging the laundry, and I was busy scrubbing my baby > doll's dresses and Raggedy Ann's pinafore with a bar of plain, old soap. > Mom had given me a galvanized bucket full of water, and my only complaint > was that the water was cold. Even at the age of six, I believed in the > cleansing powers of hot water. > When the clothes were cleaned to my satisfaction, Mom helped me hang > them on the clothesline, which was also being used for an ant sky-traveling > highway. After the clothes were dry, I pulled them from the line and > buried my nose in their stiff and starched folds, just as I will do today. > There is such satisfaction in the scent of crisp, clean linens and > towels. I love to fold the clothes as I walk along the line. It warms my > heart at the sight of them stacked so neatly in my basket, ready to be > tucked away into a drawer. > How can I not smile when I see my daughter's tiny clothes hung by her > Dad's great big ones? And my son's clothes are getting harder to tell > apart from my husband's. He is growing up, and the evidence is flapping in > my face. > When I hang the clothes, I let Bethany, my fourteen-month-old > daughter, run around in the yard. She barks at the neighbor's dog and > picks flowers. She has tried to eat the rotten walnuts that litter the > ground, but she keeps discovering that they don't taste good. I have to > keep reminding myself to buy a galvanized bucket. > History will repeat itself -- I can already tell. Simple things give > me joy. Even the lack of things can give me joy. > Now, I wish that I could be just as grateful about not having a > dishwasher. > > -- Rachel Stewart «:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«^i^MISSI ^i^«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§« Richiele Marie [email protected] (Missi) I disbelieved in reincarnation in my last life, too. »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«