Then one basket became two.
Soon, every Saturday, Vanessa would arrive with Josh and their kids, unload three enormous bags of dirty clothes, and leave them beside my washing machine.
She never asked anymore.
She just expected them to be washed, dried, folded, and waiting when they left.
At first, I told myself I was helping.
The kids were young.
Vanessa and Josh both had busy lives.
i recall what it felt like to have a home filled with clothes that appeared to multiply overnight.
yet assisting someone is entirely different from being handed chores without a single word.
i would spend half my weekend transferring loads from the washing machine to the tumble dryer while everyone else chatted upstairs, played with the little ones, or relaxed outside in the good weather.