100 words on the subject of Dirt, by Jill Lipton:
A Mold Spore Grows in Jericho
Growing up, our house was a paramilitary operation – as if Mussolini and Leona Helmsley had set up suburban housekeeping.
School books needed to be under your bed when not in use. You were allotted one stuffed animal, kept in your closet by day. We three daughters were soldiers, ever clean, pressed, and lined up in descending order when in public.
A happy childhood memory was my second grade assignment to grow mold on bread in my bedroom closet. Respecting authority, my mother allowed it, but she didn’t sleep a wink until the offending slice was ultimately bagged, tagged and extradited.