I've mentioned the cultural differences of living in Switzerland with regards to our, um, dirty laundry here before.
Just like laundry itself, it is a never ending story...
But today I'm going to talk about how our once a week laundry ritual affects the wee-est in our family.
Smidgey.
She does NOT like laundry day. When her (security) blankets get gathered into a basket, she panics. She has been known to climb in the basket, too!
 |
| Someone gets a little extra clingy... without static. |
Then when I carry the basket out the door and down to our building's laundry room, she does this:
I always put her blankets in the first load - both for fur management reasons and to minimize her trauma. Once the blankets are brought back up, she does this for the rest of the day:
(While her blankets get washed, Smidgey still has TWO pillows to lay about on. We're not savages!)
Unfortunately no amount of reassuring words seem to help her anxiety. She just doesn't understand where her blankets go or trust that they will return.
Week. After. Week.
I've come to realize that I think I share a bit of Smidgey's anxiety. Not about my blankets getting laundered, but about my understanding of what the future holds.
Will life as we knew it ever come back?
Will it smell better?
I find myself sitting by the door (metaphorically) wondering what I can do while I wait.
Today it is poetry.
an itchiness on
the inside of my skin
keeps me rooted to
the threshold
waiting for what I know is gone -
a sense of safety
comfort in my surroundings
a warm carefree embrace
my thoughts pretzel
as I try to reassure myself
with poetry
©2021, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.
Join Ruth as she hosts this week's Poetry Friday roundup.
