IRONING

I was ironing today. I love to iron. Of all the household jobs ironing has always been my favorite. I dislike to cook, it seems that I spend hours going grocery shopping; looking up new recipes; cutting and prepping' the vegetables; cooking it; and finally serving it. ALL TO BE GONE IN 10 minutes and a "Oh that was good," back to the TV. And I’m stuck with the dishes and clean up. Yes, ironing is so much more enjoyable. The nice smell of the lavender scented starch that sizzles as the iron roars across the wrinkled shirt! The iron always seems to sound like a great engine, laboring over its job, huffing and puffin, the steam coming out, and the wrinkles disappearing. The shirts nicely lined up in a row, crisp, fresh and waiting for possibilities.

I learned how to iron the spring of my 5th grade year. I was at home in quarantine after my kidney transplant. To fight the boredom, my mother taught me to iron my fathers work shirts and for a quarter a shirt. I ironed one day a week as I watched Days of our Lives and Bonanza or the Price is Right. At the time I could tell you the line-up just like I could tell you the next John Denver song on the tape. I became so good that my aunt hired me to iron, even her jeans, which I found funny, so I spent my afternoons, ironing, watching the iron glide more like a gladiator than a ballerina over the shirts, jean, and handkerchiefs. Yes, ironing!

Today I ironed, and thought, thought about how my life has been in those 27 years. I have been to high school, college, graduated school, lived in the best place San Diego; a paradise; and some not so nice places College Station; flat and oil wells, got married, adopted a little girl from Russia, and traveled to Paris. Yes, in 27 years I have been lucky because my kidney transplant put me on a track for a normal life. Pop a pill and I was normal. No one would know the difference and most people don't. But now it is coming crashing down on me, and I think of all the things I haven't done. I thought I would be a well-known author, traveled the world, seizing the moment. Instead, I look at all the houses I have had to say "goodbye" too; I look to all the friends that I had to say "goodbye" too; the doctors; the dreams. Yes, when the doctor called me and said I should have a work-up for a new transplant, my mind went to the dreams that never happened, the a little girl that is just learning to navigate the world, the dreams of settling down. Oh it is hard to say "goodbye," especially to good health. I should go and iron.