Welcome to Cozy Poetry Corner by Debra A Winter (Richter)

“Clothes, Consequences and a Parent’s Warning Story”

“Don’t come home, please”

I can’t stand this anymore — Leave those dirty oily clothes at work! We can’t afford another washer and dryer that has been destroyed by those greasy, grimy oils on your clothes and shoes. The smell of burnt rubber still lingers from the overheating of the dryer, and the washer belts are shot once again.

A laundromat is more suited for those kinds of clothes, and it is cheaper. Your family’s clothes are too expensive to keep replacing. Your sister’s school outfits for her concerts are stained so badly the marks won’t come out. Even our towels have greased stains.

Have some respect for your family.  Please don’t come home… please, listen for once.

Dad and I are frustrated with you to no end. Once, we let it slide. We needed a new washer and dryer anyway. But the second time was just the straw that broke our bank account.

We paid over a thousand dollars for that set and had to have it fixed. We hoped it would save us from buying another new set. But when we saw what it cost, we thought about giving you the bill. Then, figured out with your irresponsibility’s we’d end up anyway paying for it.

So, we are warning you. If we need to replace this now fixed set, we will have no choice but to kick you out of the house. You are old enough now to be on your own anyway. To make your own choices. And to find out what money and the cost of things are. Heed our warning. Either you listen or you will be out on your ear and taking those greasy, grimy oily clothes and shoes with you.

And you will not get any help from Dad or I on this matter.

Do you hear us? Don’t come home, please, not with those clothes and shoes again. We do love you, son. We thought we brought you up being responsible.

 “But Mom, rents are high and going to the laundromat I don’t have the time.” He answers, “I work all the time.”

“We don’t care if it’s do it or else!” I snapped. “We’re tired of your nonsense and this smell in our house. We’re beginning to think we live in a factory. Do you understand? We hope you do. You’d better heed our warning.”

He sighed; his shoulders slumped. “Okay mom, I will try to do as you and dad say. I’ll take a clean pair of clothes to work – change there and leave my stinky clothes in the car until I have enough for one of the laundromats machines. Can you at least go to the bank and get me some change? The banks are closed before I get out of work?”

“I can do that,” I said, softening my tone. “But you need to give me at least twenty dollars as the washer and dryer need the coins to run.”

“Here’s forty get me lots of change.”  Pulling out his wallet and handing me two twenty-dollar bills. “Then I’ll have it for a while.”  He paused then lowered his eyes and said, “Thanks Mom, I love you. I’m sorry for all this mess and trouble I caused. I’ll start this week.”

I held the bills, feeling the weight of them and the weightlifting between us. “Thank you, son”

Authors note: This story reflects the real‑life tug‑of‑war between love and responsibility that families face when everyday problems turn into hard lessons. Sometimes “Don’t come home” isn’t rejection — it’s a plea for respect, boundaries, and a little growing up. Thank you for reading.