My laundry may not get done daily. Sometimes I’ll admit it won’t get done weekly. But just a quick walk around my place, and you can see it’s full of love. A full fridge, since it’s well-known that they way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I have 1 and a half men at my house, and the little one some days by far can out-eat his Dada. A room full of unplayed with toys, any mother can relate to this I’m sure. Closets (yes, plural) full of clothes, some never worn with tags hanging out.
When I think of what it looks and feels like to be truly loved, a few thoughts never fail to come to mind. I can’t help but think of being nurtured. Being cared for and well taken care of, knowing that what you’re expecting of the person or in this case, a thing, is going to get done. My washing machine may not seem like it’s worth describing in this way, but in all honesty, it is. I would be lost without it. Like my oven, microwave and blow dryer. My washing machine has seen a lot of love. It’s washed clothes soiled with outdoor play. Its cleaned potholders used to remove baked chicken from my beloved oven. It’s cleaning many objects that I used everyday, and I’ve grown to depend on its reliability. I know without a doubt that what goes in dirty will come out clean.
Wouldn’t it be more true, since a washing machine is inhuman, capable only of the tasks that it has been manufactured to do, that a mother, being very human, with raw emotions, should want to care for her young? How can you watch your baby grow and not feel something inside you ebb and flow in response to your own flesh and blood?
This post is in reference to all the hate crimes involving children. Casey Anthony comes to mind, although she is old news by now. The girl in Kansas City who was locked in a closet and beaten for “wetting herself” and not allowed to come out due to the *’mother’s’ fear of the authorities finding out she was so malnourished. She actually said that. *I use the term mother lightly here
My washing machine could tell some colorful tales of love in this house. It’s cleaned up after birthday parties, trips to the park, car trips and accidents. Things I got to enjoy with my son, knowing it would clean up after. May all the world needs is more mothers seeing the world through the eyes of their washing machine. Maybe a little soap to clean their brains is all that’s needed.
Maybe this world just needs more REAL mothers.