Clothesline Murmurs
by Cheryl Rebello
Mid-summer: If the clothes drying on the nylon ropes under their window have any veracity to convey, and they do, the man whose apartment window is directly opposite mine wears a lot of corduroys. It appears he owns a lot of solid, full-sleeve shirts to go with them. His wife, on the other hand, favours an assortment of smart casuals. I notice she only wears salwars from brands that are a tad bit expensive for me. She seems to love pretty pastels that compliment her complexion. She has good taste; I’ll give her that. He opts for three-fourths to wear around the house, while she opts for spaghetti tops and short shorts.
Monsoons: His corduroys seem to have been replaced with chinos. I’m assuming because they dry a lot faster. She has begun to wear pinafore dresses that are flowy and loose around the waist. There have not been leggings on the clotheslines for a month or two. I wonder why.
Winter: The corduroys have returned! He seems to have a pair in each dark colour. Her clothing has gotten more comfortable. Still pretty, just more comfortable. What, is she having twins?
Still winter: I spy a round contraption with clothing clips. Infant-sized onesies hang from it. Also, cloth nappies the size of kerchiefs act like soundless wind chimes. Most of the clothes are a light shade of blue. It appears that the child’s a male, well at least at birth.
Summer: The baby’s caps are adorable. I like the bear-eared one in particular. The swaddle cloths make my ovaries somersault.
Rains: The parents seem to have purchased suspenders, a bow tie and a little suit for the little one. Maybe they had a photo shoot or a half-birthday celebration.
Winter: The clothing line has been bare for the most. Once a week, I see corduroys, every colour of darkness, with full-sleeve shirts still rolled up to their elbows. He’s a boxers man. Funny, I’ve never seen underthings put out to dry before. Maybe, he’s doing the laundry for a change and he’s not good at it. Maybe, she’s at her mother’s with the baby. Maybe…
The last few days of winter: There have been no clothes lately, although the house still seems to have an inhabitant.
The last day of winter: The nylon ropes are still empty. One of them is missing.
WENSUM 