Folding

Folding

For Mark

Look at these towels--pink florals

and solid burgundies (our wedding colors).

How worn they are now. Remember how

beautiful they were when we unwrapped them,

and I, the dutiful new bride, carted them up

and down three flights of stairs to the laundry

room in the basement of our apartment house,

injuring my knees in the process. There were

so many. I thought no one could ever use so

many towels.

Although they are threadbare now,

I fold them carefully. They are the only towels we

have to wipe the happy messes of our lives. Even

this white one, torn entirely in half, must. be folded

and put away. It still makes an adequate mat for our

children's dripping toes. Or you could use it to wipe

your brow after mowing the lawn, moving furniture,

or making love.

Not that it's difficult, really,

this folding and unfolding of ourselves to each other,

a rhythm as familiar as doing laundry, but never

wearing as thin; still as delightful and surprising, sometimes,

as tearing paper, popping bows, and opening presents.

This one's

for you. Open it gently. No towels this time. Just me,

my love, forever.

by Sarah Fairchild     1995

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