mud room
clean wash, fresh flowers, garden gloves
longing for home
Here’s Gloria’s mud room. I pass thru this tiny entrance way at the back of her house whenever I stop in to visit. I look around and feel at home. I see my mom hanging freshly washed clothes outside on the clothesline to dry. I look at the garden hat and gloves and see my pop and mom tending their garden behind our small, cozy house. They didn’t grow vegetables, only tender old-fashioned flowers. And if I listen carefully, I can almost hear them sitting and talking softly at the kitchen table, the way they always did.
