I came home from work tonight, milled around for a bit, and went to the hall closet off the kitchen to get out the ironing board. It set up with a loud metal-on-metal screech, and I plugged in the iron, though not before pouring whatever water was in the iron out onto the board, and floor, and myself.
My suit was already pressed, and I made sure I had my dress shoes, socks, and a decent tie. These things have a habit of getting lost, or stuffed into the corner of my closet, and become unavailable when I actually need them.
I set to ironing my shirt--a standard white dress shirt, nothing fancy--and I quickly fell into a rhythm. Long, straight, smooth passes over each side of the front, redo the pockets, then in between the buttons. Then it's the arms and finally the back.
As I fell into the careful monotony of the task, I thought about the idea of ironing itself. It's a strange thing, taking wrinkles out of clean clothes that will be wrinkled again within minutes of wearing them, but i sort of feel like doing it tonight. It's trivial, but it seems like the small amount of effort and care put into it is sort of a way of showing respect. A token of gratitude. Something like that.
My great aunt Kitty died this week, and I'm getting ready for her funeral. She was always a sweet old lady to me, and had a way about her that was all her own. She laughed a lot, more chuckling to herself, and she had a voice that was completely unique.
Her husband, Ray, died a few years back, and I always got along with him well. He had a woodshop when I grew up, and made all sorts of old-fashioned wooden toys that he sold around. Trains, cars, animals, trucks, and all kinds of pull-toys and things for little kids. I used to love playing with all of them when I was a kid, though, when I got older I grew to admire the work involved in making each of them.
I don't really feel sad about her passing, she was quite old and lived a good and full life. Though, I feel like I should've appreciated more when I was a kid. Stories and histories and family and things.