“G-d, if You keep our sins in mind, who can survive?” (Tehillim 130:3)
It’s amazing who you can meet in the laundry room. Living in an apartment building means I get to sort my lights and darks while sharing space with neighbours. Before Pesach I met an Israeli man who told me about his father whom he would be visiting the following week. “He’s in a home now, he can’t live on his own, so I’ll make a seder for him when I get there”. Then there was the woman who was washing a special “fishing jacket”. Really. I didn’t know the ins and outs of outdoor fishing apparel until she explained this garment – purchased in Norway – and extolled its virtues. Often times I only exchange a polite smile as I empty out my load.
Sometimes there’s the young man with giant headphones or the mother with a toddler in a wagon. We go about our parallel missions. Socks and towels transferred from washer to dryer, detergent poured, and cycles started. And while we are strangers, there’s an unmistakable intimacy we share. Not quite a private space, yet not quite public, the laundry room is the great connector. Why? Because in that space it becomes clear: we al have washing to do. I’m not just talking about a hamper full of clothing. I’m talking about our soul work. There is a comfort, and deeply humbling aspect, to standing knee high in washing with others. Last night’s laundry rendez vous was just such an experience.
I had come to empty the dryer. I was at that ‘laundry finish line’ – when the only (and for me, for some reason, dreaded) task left was putting it away. A mother with toddler in tow was emptying the washing machine I had used earlier. That’s when it happened (drum roll please): she laid a lone sock out on top of the dryer. And that’s when I realized: one of my socks had been left behind and laundered with hers. As I went to retrieve it, explaining that it must have been wedged in the washer, I thanked my sock-rescuer. “Well, now it’s been washed twice, once with your stuff, once with mine – it’s extra clean!” she said. We shared a laugh. But there was something deeper going on. We were acknowledging that our ‘mess’ the need to clean up – was not as separate as it might seem. Our common humanity, the sense that ourselves and our souls could use some scrubbing, was out in the open.
We shared more than a smile or a delicate cycle – we shared a moment of connection. And that is the gift of laundry room friends. I don’t know her name. I have no clue what unit she lives in. But for a moment we breached the boundary that made us ‘other’. There was an ‘us’ in the soul-scrubbing of life. Because let’s face it, we all have work to do. Perfection lies in the domain of the Almighty, ours is in cleaning and healing. This seldom looks like the gentle cycle. Most often we come to our cleansing through struggle and challenge. Sleepless nights and stressful days are the scouring pads for our soul. It’s how we show up to this work that will define who we become. But the friends we make and the people we meet along the journey can make the work doable – even joyful. That’s why it’s amazing who you can meet in the laundry room.
With love,
Ilana
Last modified: December 15, 2019
