Handing clothes to her from the basket of wet laundry we had carried out together with our uneven height and gait I look up as she shakes each piece and pins it overlapping with the next. Sunshine gilds the grass. A breeze lifts her red brown hair, then frills the sheets like sails to whirl around the reel. We laugh as they twirl, white, white from the bluing rinse, white as her hair is now while I fold warm sheets from the dryer for her bed.

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