This morning I found in the dryer a
tangle of sheets, placed there by my oldest. He is home with not much
to do, and I am busy, and I asked for help with the laundry this week.
The sheets wound together and through one another, in some places
sinuous, in other places lumpen. King size ivory sheets from my room,
queen size soft green for the guest bed and khaki twin sheets from the
boys' room wended their way through the dryer cycle yesterday. The
largest fitted sheets remain wettest, twisted violently in their
centers, holding pillowcases in their ends.
Somehow the flannel sheets, covered with a pattern of spaniels,
retrievers and ducks, remained separate, keeping to the outside edges
of the dance. Now they sit lonely atop the dryer, hunters waiting to
see what will emerge from the wild woods as the day passes.