After Shout Out, OxyClean, bleach and a toothbrush, frayed at the collar though it may always now be, it was hot and blinding white once again and now lavender scented as I returned it back to the wooden peg next to the kiva fireplace in my bedroom.
There it was when I awoke this morning. Like an Andrew Wyeth still life, fresh and ceremonial and personal against the polished adobe plaster.
I greeted it like an old purified friend, ready to bundle me up for the blurry toddle to...