2002-09-05-11:02 p.m.

When Abby was a baby we bought a new washer and dryer so I could use cloth diapers. We thought it would save us money in the long run since we wouldn't have to buy disposable diapers or go to the laundromat anymore. That was seventeen years ago.

The dryer broke this week. I don't mind that much. I actually like to hang the clothes out on the line. I like that I get to go outside and talk to the dogs and that I get to have a little bit of fresh air every day. And I really like the way the clothes and sheets smell when I bring them in.

The strange thing is that the dryer is gone to the dryer hospital and there's this empty space in the garage. The poor little washer looks so small and lonely all by itself. You can see the dryer hose lying there and the socks and toys that fell under the dryer while it was there all those years.

It's a little too much like the empty place at the dining room table. Abby's never here for meals anymore. Well, hardly ever. She's gone more than she's here. I don't count out eight of everything anymore. Just seven. Abby has a job and a fiancee and she's going to college. She's all grown up.

It's funny that the dryer's been around Abby's whole life. If it could talk or if it had been able to take pictures that dryer could help me remember a lot of things. It could see me as a young mother holding Abby in one arm and doing laundry with the other. It would remember the way she sounded when she cried. It would have pictures of her growing taller and taller until she eventually started doing laundry on her own. It was there when she had deep conversations with her friends out in the garage.

But now it's gone and, though I do enjoy getting the clothes out of the washer and hanging them up on the line, I can't quite get used to seeing that empty space every time I go out there.

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