You can see her out there on the back porch in a house dress, it’s tiny floral pattern faded to practical invisibility. Some grandmother white hair askew, cranking the laundry from wet to damp, piece by piece. Finally clipping it all in rows on the lines to dry in the warm Virginia sun, pulling the pins from her apron and snapping them home.
She must’ve felt some pride with her sheets stirring in the breeze for all to see. Everything so clean and bright. A quick smile and off to other tasks.