By Gloria Palazzo

washing-machineBecause yesterday happened the laundry bag is full. It is not full of clothes or linens. It is me. I am in the sack with a hammer, a chisel, a saw and some glue.

Getting into the washing machine is not a simple task from this crouched position. It is very dark and it takes some crawling, grasping, groping and groaning to reach the machine. Two hops and I am there. I can feel the washer. Yes, it is in front of me. Waiting.

It is time for the water to fill the great abyss and the churning to start. I am going to get cleaned up. I keep my hands over my face so that I am not cut up or damaged by the hammer, the saw, or the chisel. The beating feels good. When the rinse cycle starts I am greatly relieved. This cleansing will soon be over.

What relief to see in the full length mirror my naked beautiful child. The years are washed away, and the pain hammered silent. The fears and doubts are chiseled and scattered to another world. A child is reborn and loved anew. I hear the laughter from the trees. I swallow the feelings and let them into my bones. My feet dance because my toes are singing.

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