SATURDAY NIGHT’S ROUTINE

It was a night of preparation, a cleansing some would say
to get us all in readiness for the Sabbath Day.
Mom put the wash tub filled with warm water near the wood stove
on the floor and nearby soap and towels to dry us off.
We were not very old, but I knew already the embarrassment that
could make me blush like a peach in the sunshine, that of
being the untimely visit of the neighbour’s boy who just walked in
unannounced, and stood there staring. I can still feel the
red-hot burning of my skin and I felt I’d never be able to look
him in the eye again. Until we got a modern bathroom, we
had to endure this public bathing. It was such a blessing
when the little house with the moon on the door in our back yard was
taken down for good and the catalogues thrown out.
I remember how our knees and faces shone when our ablutions
were done. How mom used to scrub us and keep us all so neat and clean,
and we’d go to bed that night with white rags in our hair which gave
the effect of ringlets the next day. We were poor, but that
doesn’t have to mean dirty, as we were spotless. Then of course
there was the pleasure of sliding into our beds that smelled
of the outdoors as Saturday night was the time to change
the sheets. Did I say we were poor? I take that back. In retrospect I see that
we were rich in all that mattered, with parents who worked
their fingers to the bone, literally, and saw to it that we knew Jesus.
We met Him everyday in our Rosary Time, and in our child-like
prayers, and through the loving care of the Sisters who
taught us way back when. Thank God for the blessed
childhood we had.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 20, 2007