I used to get annoyed when my dad ran the dryer every morning. Our third garage was converted into a bedroom, with a kitchenette. In the garage next door, was my own refrigerator. My parents created this space as a bar slash den but as I got older, they agreed to let me move in there.
The only problem was privacy became less. The laundry room, like most homes with garages, was attached to my new bedroom. Again, so was the actual garage. Frequently my parents would go through these pathways to get into and out of the home. My brother did, too. Most times they knocked, other times they did not. Eventually I put up a room divider to block the view you get from opening either door. I did this because I was caught changing one time my dad decided to just barge in.
I’m not going to talk about breaching my privacy as much as I want to talk about my dad needing to fluff his clothes before he went to work.
He never broke routine. If it ever was messed up due to going on a vacation or my mom having a holiday off work, he’d get stressed out and immediately return to his routine as soon as he could – and that meant leaving our vacations early so he could get right back into it. Part of that routine was starting the hot water in the shower, grabbing his clothes for the day, and tossing them into the dryer to de-wrinkle as he washed up. This means for about 10 minutes the dryer was running every… single… morning.
When I lived through this, I never got used to the humming. The worst part was when the zippers or buttons would hit the dryer walls. You’d think drying clothes came with monotone, but no. Dryers make different sounds at different times and with different types of clothing. So it was just annoying. Why couldn’t he iron like everyone else? And why for ten minutes?
Now that I am away in a remote location, I miss that sound. Well, not the sound as much as I miss my dad being there. I always wished he’d break his routine up and stop being so meticulous – just let loose and have fun. But, now that I think of it, I appreciate the predictability. And I also appreciate that he would make some stupid joke as he poked his head in, or he’d ask what I had planned for the day.
No one is around me in the morning. Most of the people I work with have their own morning routine and it’s quiet. The majority do yoga or meditate. I do smell incense, and that’s nice. But the sound is missing. Besides birds waking up or breakfast being made. As far as people sounds… nothing. No laughter. No sound of my dad’s news. No rushing noises as my mother tries to get out of bed 20 minutes before she has to clock in. Nothing like that at all.
I know one day I will miss the silence and stillness of my mornings here, but right now I miss the sound of home.
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