Each Thursday, join me for my once a week practice, Through the Glass Backwards. The title of this series came from my former commute into work, when I took the light rail downtown. Even though I tend to get motion sick easily, I usually ended up facing backwards, watching as the city slips by. Now that I work from home, these vignettes will be a 200 word glimpse of things I see as the world outside me lives its life, and I am fortunate enough to see, but not necessarily from the light rail window.
She stood in front of the washer, two steps away, facing the clothes going around and around. I smelled laundry detergent and spilled soda, heat from the dryers and the smell of clean. I, too, am easily mesmerized by clothing going in circles. But motion sickness isn’t kind.
I people watch as I wait for clothing to be wrung in the final spin cycle, wait for the heavy duty dryers which eat my quarters, 5 minutes at a time. I see the family of five, parents trying to wrangle children racing around the machines. I think the children could probably fit inside, if they could figure out the locking mechanisms on the washer doors.
I listen to the symphony of language, words, and sound, the beep of the dryers finishing, the swipe of pages being flipped over as I read my book.
I walk out of the laundromat with my clean laundry, the smell of “linen fresh” wafting up. It’s been a while since I’ve used scented laundry soap. The day is warm, but not too hot. There isn’t immediate sweat popping up on my forehead. I enjoy the small breeze that brushes my arms as I walk to the car.