As a child I always loved to sit and watch my grandmother and mother do laundry. They had a laundry day and if you did not have your clothes in the dirty clothes hamper by that day they did not get washed until the next laundry day. Laundry day always smelled so fresh to me, the air felt clean, they would open all the windows weather permitting and start on each load with a joyous heart, no complaining unless you got stains on your Sunday clothes for they were the good clothes,the most sacred ones.
They would sort out the clothes according to color and stains with each pile representing a person they cared about. They would wash these clothes with care, washing sometimes by hand and then they would hang these clothes outside on a clothes line again taking care that each item had the proper clothes pins and praying it would not rain. Once they hung up the sheets and towels they would blow in the wind and my sisters, cousins and I would run through them, pretending we were flying or in some magical place of cleans smells and white cotton.
We would help bring the clothes inside and they would fold each item with loving care. Even though I did not have a lot of clothes they always felt so good.I could feel the care on my body and in my bed sheets.
This message of laundry day is a tradition for me now, I don’t have an actual day and I don’t have a clothes line actually where I live it is illegal to have one outside. However what I do have is that memory of sacred loving care in it's simplest form, when I do laundry I do it with the same joyful heart and I have even been know to kiss and hold the clothes to my heart as I fold them with the intention that my loved ones feel that love.