and i am suddenly five years old again , standing in our laundry room in portland , listening to the throaty gurgle of soapy water draining slowly from the sink , watching her do the same thing with our shirts , our underwear ; watching the stippling of water across the tile walls ; watching her turn and clip , clip , our clothing to the lines crisscrossing our ceiling , and then turn again , smiling at me , humming to herself ... ...