the shiny metal, red and white, wheels, dinks, clinks, plinks, tenderizing the clothes as the machine agitates. as the blades of the overhead fan cut the downstretching light, strobe, and the lines that define us waiver, we wash clean our lives under the flourscent lights. a night we wish we could forget, a night we hope we always remember, the dirt of a hard earned life, the smell of humanity, softened and fading from the material we wrap our nakedness with. you can tell alot by the laundry spinning in the machine. a young mother, tired and worn, is discussing her ordeal with a vicious ex, or perhaps not ex enough. the small children around her stare glassy eyes at the television, unable to hear to cartoon sounds over the machine spin thunder and the wave crashing roar of their mothers’ pain in their ears. i’m guilty – i people watch. i cry over the ones lost – the sadness, pain, desolation. they are dominated by their struggles, with little ones in their wake, rocking to the time tune of the afterwaves. how can they stand a chance when their example refuses to see, to be an example? when they can’t win because they lost before they were born? the youngest is containing his lament over the agitating toy car while the oldest boy, standing tall for his 9 or so years attends to the needs of his little siblings. as the shiny metal beats the clothes soft, he wraps his family in the cushioned, worn fabric of deceit, a veil of decency to comfort those inside and out of his family from the truth he lives – neglect, loss… so many things i take for granted. i meet his eye, see the sparkle of determination and the glint of understanding beyond even my years, 20 his senior. he will rise above because of the life he sees playing before his eyes, that which the other player are oblivious that they are writing, or worse, accepting as their own. i can see he knows he can write his own…
where will he be in 20 years, as he reaches for his third decade? i wish i could see – so many feet and footfalls can stumble, crumble his path and erode or even devour his resolve. it’s there in him, as it is in us all – the ability, the capacity to achieve great things. will there be enough to nurture his drive? will he fail to thrive, queen bee abandoned her hive? will he listen to society’s jive? will he president, prisoner, or just another person in the middle of it all? i hope he can take the kind caring feelings i radiate to him, to boost him in moments resolve dissolves…
