laundry day

Her mother stood at the bottom of the basement stairs
weeping quietly.
From the top of the stairs, she could see her mother’s shoulders
shaking slightly.
She knew this was where her mother went when her mother
felt sad –
or needed to do the family laundry – which for her was kind of the
same thing.
The basement was unhappy, dark, smelly, a place she didn’t want to go –
literally and figuratively.
Her mother was alone there with her sad laundry, warm clean towels against her
wet face.


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