I bought my washer and dryer at a garage sale about ten years ago. They were still in good working condition after all those years, although the outside of the body have patches of rust. I changed the washer fan belt shortly after I bought it. Two weeks ago, my sister asked me if I wanted to buy her washer and dryer since she was buying new ones. R have always wanted to buy a new set of washer/dryer because he claims that our old ones could be very noisy and they distracted his music listening down there in the basement. He agreed to buy sis' washer/dryer. Her new ones were delivered today. I have to get rid of my old ones. I was thinking of giving them away to charity or to any friend who might be interested. But instead, I asked the delivery guys if they could dispose them off for me. They agreed to do it at a reasonable price.
As I watched the two delivery guys carry off my washer with two wide yellow belts strapped on their shoulders, choreographing their steps up and down the basement stairs, I felt a lump rose in my throat. I was sad to let the washer/dryer go.
Once or twice a year, I clean out our storage in the laundry room. Some clothes and stuff - I give away to my sister, or to charity. I don't have a hard time giving those away. But this time I was really having a hard time letting go of our washer/dryer. They were one of the first appliances I ever owned. I used them every single week. I was always the one who washed our clothes. They stood there in the basement as I tried to remove apple stains on baby shirts, green grass stains on my children's jeans, and red chapstick marks on RG's sleeves. They were there when I tried to shake out shredded tissues that were left in pockets and when I tried to soak RG's light grey Power Rangers shirt that turned pink when R did the laundry while I was in the hospital with my second baby. That's why when I delivered my third baby, I was anxious to get home so that I could sort the laundry myself before he washed them.
I guess it's the memories that come with my washer/dryer that makes it hard for me to let go. Anyway, those memories will stay with me even though I part with my old rusty appliances. I'm sure that I will make new memories with my new ones.
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It's funny that I ran across this tonight. I got a new refrigerator last Saturday. The old one was taking a long time to get things cold. It was in my house when I moved in 17 years ago. It saw my kids grow into adults. It held their drawings with tape or magnets. I remember my daughter standing on a chair to get ice cream out of the freezer. The new one is nice, bigger, brighter and quieter. It just doesn't have the memories.
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