Monday, November 12

Pen Marks

Years ago RR and I lived in a 2-family house with my mom and youngest brother.  We lived downstairs and they lived above us.  At the time my mother didn't have a clothes dryer so they would use mine.  It was new. I had bought the washer dryer set in cash, along with my other major appliances and they were something I was proud of.  They were installed in the kitchen and vented out the window to the drive-way.

One day I came home from work, and while using the dryer my brother exploded a blue pen in it.  The inside drum was no longer sparkling white and clean; instead it was smeared with pen marks.  I was mad.  Livid, is probably a better word for it.  My brother and poor mother heard more than their fair share about how upset I was with the situation.  How could my brother be so irresponsible with my things I thought?

Then my brother passed away, March 23, 2009.

I had certainly gotten over the pen marks in my dryer at that point.  But did I need to be so upset at the time?  Clearly I can't erase the past; and I am sure my brother knows how much we all loved him, despite the stupid things he would do from time to time; after all he was just a kid of 23 when he died.  Every single time I open the dryer I think of my brother.  Those pen marks are still there.

Fast-forward to about a month ago, I am taking RR's clothes out of the dryer and I notice a new substance also coating the inside walls of my dryer.  It looks like dryer lint, but it's sticky.  Turns out I washed and dried gum in RR's pants pocket.

You know I never said anything to him about it.  I cleaned up the mess, the best I could, and rewashed his clothes.  I've learned somethings in life just aren't worth loosing you're cool over.  Dryers and other appliances can be cleaned and replaced; but you can't say the same for people.


Sue said...

Kate, I think you were the only 1 who remembered that. Waynie didn't mention it much after the fact either.Look at it this way. You have a lasting memory of him right in your dryer.

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