This Is How It's Done

They would come out of the dryer, so long
and wrinkle-free, their blossoms and stripes

asking to be tended. My grandmother took
them from the heat, fixed her fingers into corners

and showed me how it was done. I tried to do
what she showed me tonight, folding the gold

800 count Egyptian sheets, but I was all thumbs
and failed miserably in my attempt. Maybe the trick

only works on 200 count Sears or JC Penney's sheets.
Of course, I make the numbers up. Based on conversations

and memories. I guess it all counts, no matter the type
or fiber. I know the loss counts. My grandmother's

death, my friend's. I think of them both as I try once
more to get a firm grasp on what matters, whether it be

the thread count or the methodology of folding. Both
of them have left me with this: there is a way, and there

is no way. Both speak to me tonight, awake and alone,
trying to make sense out of the things I do to fill in the hours.