i do not remember the last time i was in a laundromat. but due to an over-sized blanket, much too over for my own washing machine, there i was. washing, while toots and a gang of children ran wild, roaring loudly anytime they conquered something daring, like climbing tables or chairs or wheeling stolen carts across the floor. washing, while a spanish woman, with belly full of laughter and lays potato chips joked about how 'strong' my daughter was. so strong, in fact, she'll be able to easily slap the lights out of any man who gets out of line later on in life. i chuckled then cringed. that her mind could fathom no brighter future for my girl child, was saddening. wondered, too, what kind of man she will grow her son to be (i presume the sort of man who deserves to have the lights slapped out of him). drying, while a pretty faced, african woman, pregnant with hope and possibility walked, repetitively around aisles of machines, doing her best to "work dis baby outta" herself and giggling every time she passed her lock-haired lover, who winked each time he saw her nearing. folding, while natural haired, jamaican woman, whose age i over guessed, ranted regrets about perming her, ten year natural hair, and how her present style of ear length coils, a simple by-product of starting over. and me, reassuring her beauty, and sharing my own natural woes and loving the bond that two "five minute friends" can create...in a laundromat.