Walking into the laundry mat, the fluorescent lights hit me in a flash. The smell of bleach fills my nose while people look idly around. Empty eyes, empty baskets. Clothes spin all around me. Carefully I pick an empty washer and put my items in. Filling up the machine with clothes as my mind fills up my head with thoughts. I’ve been thrown into many cycles, cycles of abuse, cycles of trauma, and cycles of hurt. Which cycle should I pick today? Blankley, I stare at the washer Cycles for delicates or cycles for heavy loads. Heavy it is.

 I hit the start button and my laundry turns and turns. The humming of machines swims in my ears. I worry about the cycle. How long does it take? Can clothes ever be good as new? There is so much wear and tear, Stretches in the meshes no one will ever see. Clothes spin and spin while my mind turns and turns. Round and round in my heart, my thoughts a deep crimson stain unable to get washed away.
Is getting whacked around the only way to become clean?
Is this washer too rough for my already fragile clothes?
There’s the saying what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. My clothes don’t need to be stronger they need kindness. I feel angry at the injustice the clothes have felt, haven’t people seen the tags “handle with care”? My anger cannot change how they were treated in the past, I mended my favorite shirts and pants with love and now they will get clean in this washer. The clothes are tough, they’ll make it they always have.

I stare at the clock. Minutes feel like hours, feel like days, feels like years. Time passes by without so much as a glance. The washer is close to finishing, what I couldn’t clean by myself seems to have disappeared with only some time and proper treatment. It seems like a miracle.

BEEP BEEP BEEP
The washer brings me back to a better place. Sitting in a chair with empty seats beside me. Looking at the clean load, I took a breath and realized that this cycle had ended. It was time to move on to a warmer dryer place.

I grab my clothes, soaking wet. I press them to my body as I move them. They were never meant to stay in that cycle and neither was I.

Gently I place them in the dryer. It’s so interesting that something that might feel so rough; like getting thrown around in a machine. It can make the clothes softer and warmer than they ever imagined they could be. The dryer cycle is kinder than the last. No harsh speeds, just heat and a little bit of tumbling. The dirty water leaves to make space for the warm and soft. After all this time there is no more coldness left. the dryer beeps almost as a triumph saying;

“You did it! Let this warmth and softness be with you! The cold doesn’t last forever.”

Clutching the clothes, I lightly dropped them in the hamper. Slowly I pack up and head to my car. With a renewed sense of hope, that things can be clean and the numb cold can become warm again. I exit the laundry mat as a fresh breeze hits my face. At that same moment, the sun shines down on me wishing me good luck.