You see people on ordinary days and on hard days. You see parents folding tiny clothes, workers washing the week off their uniforms, neighbors helping neighbors without being asked. There’s something deeply human about it all.

Dear Neighbor,

I love laundry.

I know — it’s not exactly a favorite chore for most people. Actually, do we even have favorite chores? But if I had to choose one, it would be laundry. Always has been. Washers, dryers, the whole process. I’ve been drawn to it for as long as I can remember.

I even have memories of the old wringer machines used to squeeze water out of clothes. As a child, my arm accidentally went through one. So yes, laundry and I have been through a bit of a spin cycle together. But I came out fine… maybe just slightly more committed to the cause.

I’m not entirely sure where my fascination began, but I’ve always embraced it. There’s a photo of me as a little girl sitting in the bathtub, washing clothes on a washboard. That’s how early this love started.

During summer and winter visits to Mexico, the first thing I would do when we arrived at my Grandma Rosa’s house was head straight to the lavadero to hand wash clothes. A lavadero is a traditional outdoor wash sink, usually made of cement or stone, with a built-in scrub board. Hers sat outside in a small utility area, and I absolutely adored it. Of course, vacation itself was wonderful, but that lavadero was always one of my favorite parts.

Later on, I managed a cloth diaper laundry service. Yes, elbow deep in baby laundry. It may sound like a dirty job, but it was oddly satisfying. And it felt meaningful, helping keep countless disposable diapers out of landfills. That experience also introduced me to industrial washers and dryers, and somehow, I fell even more in love with the work.

After that, I worked at a small market that, coincidentally, had once been a laundromat decades ago. I also volunteered with Laundry Love of Salisbury, a chapter of a nationwide nonprofit that helps people wash and dry their clothes and linens. It’s an incredible organization and a vital resource for many in our community.

And now, life has brought me full circle once again. Recently, I started a new job. Yes, you guessed it. At a laundromat. My happy place.

But it’s not just the hum of machines that brings me joy. It’s the people. There are the one-time visitors, stopping in for a quick need. The regulars, who come in week after week. And then there are the unexpected conversations, the kind that start over a shared machine and turn into something more meaningful. You never quite know who you’ll meet or what story you’ll hear.

You see people on ordinary days and on hard days. You see parents folding tiny clothes, workers washing the week off their uniforms, neighbors helping neighbors without being asked. There’s something deeply human about it all.

And somewhere between the spin cycles and the folding tables, you realize that a laundromat isn’t just a place.

It’s a small, steady reminder that we’re all just doing our best, and that sometimes, even the most ordinary places and the people you have yet to meet, can hold the most heart.

“Dear Neighbor” authors are united in a belief that civility and passion can coexist. We believe curiosity and conversation make us a better community.