Mother Finds Religion, Along with Dirty Laundry

“Maybe she’s practicing for the Rapture,” I think, picking my way across the house from one pile of discarded clothing to the next.

I envision her spontaneous uplift into the heavens, leaving all worldly possessions behind, including socks, underwear and crumpled dirty Kleenex.

That’s how I deal with my daughter’s messiness. It sure beats the daily temptation to shout at her for being such a slob.

Then she went away to college. Now I can cross a room without tripping, allowing a guest to use the bathroom without embarrassment. Sure, I miss her, but I have to admit that having a clean house eases the loss considerably.

Before I know it, she’s home for mid-term break.

“I brought my dirty laundry,” she cheerfully announces, emptying a bulging duffel bag into the hamper. Soon every surface is littered with stuff and piles of clothing sprout all over the floor.

It’s rapturous to have her home again.

By Lorrie Goldin