Growing up, we had a clothes’ line. Being the youngest, hanging and taking clothes down fell as one of my jobs. I remember moving my stool down the line so that I could reach the clothes’ pins, pulling the bag of pins and the laundry basket along behind me.
The pins were worn smooth from years of use. The bag, a sewn bag on an old wire hanger, was soft from exposure to the elements. The actual line was stiff, pulled taught between the poles from which it hung. When it was windy, the clothes would whip around, making it difficult to wrangle them into my little hands. When it was just breezy out, I could wrap myself in the clean sheets, inhaling the scent. Nothing in the world smells quite like sheets which have dried outside on a clothes’ line.
Our family does not currently have a clothes’ line. I miss having one, and I feel that my children are missing out on an experience. I don’t know if I can rectify that at our current house, but I definitely plan to install a clothes’ line at our next house. I want to inhale the scent of clothes air dried outside once again, and to share that memory with my children.