Night Fell Before the Spin Cycle Ended

Nodding off in an all-night cafe/laundromat in Medellin.

Listening to the deep rumble of fifty washers rolling clothing in sudsy water.

Waiting for one fleece blanket to dry.

Retracing the steps that brought me here.

My Airbnb has a washing machine but no dryer.

But night fell before the spin cycle ended, meaning. No sun to dry the blanket for the night.

My host, an Italian grandmother living in Colombia, in a fit of nurturing aggression refused to allow me to sleep with no blanket, or even a lightly damp one.

It’s fine.

No, no! If a dampness touches here. What are these? Above the hips. Like beans. She traces the region on her own back with her thumb tips.

Kidneys.

Yes, if a dampness from a wet shirt or blanket touches your kidneys, you get ill. So go to the laundromat. You need Pesos?

I have Pesos.

And she sent me lugging this fleece blanket under street lights one mile through the night to the laundromat.

Trying to stay awake as washers roll water in drums, and clothes tumble in sentry lines of dryers. The scent of artificial lavenders and vanillas filling the non-air conditioned air.

Waiting, staying awake, considering the many timezones and timings that must be accounted for in order for a given day to go correctly.