The Dirty Circus

When I was eight years old, my family of six moved to an acreage. Visions of tree-forts and horses filled my mind. The reality was an outhouse, no running water, and an unfinished one-bedroom house.

Six people, including baby twins, generate heaps of dirty clothes. It wasn’t long before we loaded our big, black garbage bags full of laundry into the back of the truck and headed to town in search of a laundromat. Dumping the filthy clothes into all the machines, lining up the quarters and ramming them into the slots was mildly entertaining. And then the real show began.

There was a large utility sink in the middle of the laundromat. Before I knew what was happening, my mom was stripping down one of the twins and issuing orders for me to prepare the other. The sink was filled with sudsy water. She plunked twin #1 into the sink, then grabbed twin #2 and tossed him in. I was a little uncomfortable with the situation. My eyes kept darting towards the door. What if someone came in? What if they were kids from my new school? I watched the Beverly Hillbillies, I knew what they would think. Shrieking, splashing, and suds erupted from the sink. The little peanuts were dunked, scrubbed, and wrapped in towels before they knew what hit them.

Next was my six-year-old brother. His snot-glazed face frozen in horror; he was a little more cognizant that bathing in public was weird. He too was stripped and tossed into the makeshift tub. Crying and splashing ensued, while the twins ran naked and laughing around the folding table. My mom scrubbed him as if he had been covered in sewage, which may have accounted for some of the screaming. The redneck bath rodeo continued as I watched the door. Thank goodness I was too big for the sink.

“You’re next,” she said. I shook my head and glared at the door, convinced that my future classmates were going to burst through and I’d be known as the naked hillbilly. She grabbed my arm and began yanking my shirt. One look at her face and I knew there was no use fighting – best to get it over with quickly. I folded my bony little body into the sink so my future classmates would only see my head and shoulders. I only stood briefly as my mom threw a warm towel over my shoulders and lifted me out of the brown water.

I glanced around the laundromat, wondering where I would hide if my mom joined the dirty circus. She did not, although I am sure she imagined how good it would feel to immerse her body in warm, sudsy water. My mom always loved the water. I imagine that she swims in the most beautiful heavenly lakes.

These days, it’s easy for me to feel deprived. My roots are nearly an inch long, my nails are growing out, and I might have to start wiping my ass with coffee filters. But I can turn on the tap, have a bath, and do laundry whenever I want.