That five year olds love to help. Together we walked down two flights of stairs with a basket piled high with laundry. The clothes kept falling out with each step and thump. And we put them back in. Every single time. When we finally made it to the basement, it was time to sort darks and lights. Huge piles were made on the ping pong table. We moved clothes from the dryer into the now empty laundry basket and placed the just washed clothes into the dryer.
Load after load. It never ends. This chore of laundry is so monotonous it kills me. Feel like I’m in the movie Groundhog Day. I look at the clothes and ask myself didn’t I wash this yesterday? I am exhausted.
As I look at the new basket of clothes ready to be folded I take a glance at my little helper. I say “well we don’t need to fold these now, it will take awhile.” But she surprises me by saying “we can do it together and it won’t take as long.” And I respond by saying, “yes, yes of course.” I get back my energy and strength and slowly, ever so gently show her how to fold a shirt, a dress, a pair of pants. She is so excited.
And then I remember that eight year olds don’t like to fold laundry. How could I have forgotten? And I am sad because I realize this time will pass so quick. Too quick.
And I will be alone on a sunny day – lugging, sorting, washing and folding laundry in the basement with the whirl of the washer and dryer going at the same time. Wishing I was somewhere else and remembering.