Spring cleaning
Saturday dawns with blustery winds and a cool disposition. It is inside-weather and the four walls of my home is a sanctuary. It is my time a nd I'm in the mood to clean out cobwebs & cupboards, t o tackle the old & the new. Spring cleaning is therapeutic; it provides physical exercise and mental stimulation. It is so much more than brooms and mops; irons and washers; creases and dust. My mother's hand grips the iron tightly, pushing down hard, veins thick and ridged and deep blue, fighting stubborn creases like I'm going to get paid. "Bony," my dad used to call her, lovingly; bursting into song: "I've got a girl named Bony Maronie, she's as thin as a stick of macaroni..." Unlike my mom, I'm thick and curvy. However, I do have her hands and feet, fingers and toes long and slim, refusing to allow fat to deposit there, sending it all to the bum and thighs. A burst of steam whooshes out, hitting me in the face like a facial. A...
