"Cindy, whatever you do, don't get your hands
near those rollers!"
Do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and the fresh breeze coming in at the open window--when, lying lazily with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving, or waters rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture or poem. And is not that a Mother's gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a Mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? To rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark--to rise and enjoy another happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend, who sends you the beautiful sun?
Recently I came across this Easter greeting from Lewis Carroll to the children who loved his Alice in Wonderland. I had been trying to describe the summer mornings to Clint when I would go next door to my grandmother's on wash day. Lewis Carroll described my summer mornings perfectly in this greeting. The only difference is my mother did not draw back the curtains or summons me to rise. She didn't have to. I had places to go and things to do like go next door to my grandmother's house and watch her wash clothes! I am guessing I was about seven years old. There was nothing I liked better than being in her basement when she was washing clothes.
Repeatedly she had warned me not to get my fingers near those washing machine wringers. She would tell me a horror story of some kid up in the country that had a accident with a wringer washing machine. When I could sneak and do it when she had her back turned, I would put my finger on the opposite side of the wringers where the clothes were inserted. It would repel your finger and push it away, kinda like a game for me. One day I got my wringer sides mixed up and got my hand caught in the rollers. Bless her heart, by the time my grandmother could help me, it had drawn in my arm. I remember her frantically attempting to free my arm and thank God, she was able. My hand was very sore and I remembered wash day was not as much fun after that ordeal. One thing for sure, I never got near that wringer washing machine again!
Clint has his own very similar wringer washing machine story. He played "the game" I played when his grandmother had turned her back. His finger was caught but he was able to pull it out.
I look back and regret I put my grandmother through this experience.
I'm sorry, mamaw, I didn't listen to you.
|I loved running through those sheets hanging on the line.|
|Of course she always had that box of Tide.|