When my mother died last year she left a legacy of story-telling, various obsessive thought patterns, some secrets, a love of theatre and music, clouds of anxiety, an easy laughter and about a hundred plush towels. The family has been working through the secrets. We call each other on the phone to tell stories about ourselves or events we can embellish for the laugh factor. Some of us sing more than others but we’ve all got a hum going at times. The towels ended up at my house and I’ve been thinking about the general lack of towelishness in the world and the metaphor of towels. Zen and the art of drying off after a shower.
When I received the stacks of towels left by a loving mother, I listened to what she could never tell me because she was so careful not to create anxiety in her listeners. Do your best to stay clean, she was saying. Wash your hands. Wipe up your messes. Wipe up any messes I made in my children. Make the world cleaner.
Here, use these towels I left you.
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