It's All Good If You Think It Is
Our house is not small, nor is it large. It's just the perfect size at the moment, actually. Although I sometimes feel I'm going batty while the four of us have to share one bathroom, it brings us closer, literally. Some days it seems there isn't a minute in which the bathroom is free. The sound of inquisitive knocking or patient pacing from outside the door at times becomes the musical backdrop to our lives. And good luck bathing uninterrupted.
Apart from these irritations, however, I adore how the room, cozy and newly renovated, soaks up the the happenings of our day. A hanging towel can retain the most amazing scents originating from somewhere throughout the rest of the house. The smell of fresh laundry, Sunday morning bacon and eggs, Granny's perfume, Vanessa's new cotton candy flavoured lip gloss, the toothpaste Eddy left in the sink AGAIN, lemon scented cleaner, the pot of apples and cinnamon bubbling on the stove, Jim's rare splash of cologne and yes, even wet dog on occasion calm me.
For all the kerfuffle in actually acquiring the room for a moment or two, instantly I'm soothed. From the cool, mottled gray and green stone floor to the natural hemp coloured fabrics I feel almost as though I'm outside. From the antique, pewter faucets to the Victorian styled oval mirror and ornamental iron plant stand, I can be transported briefly to another age. Even when my little sighs of wistful daydreaming are suddenly broken by practical thoughts like, 'It's cold outside. I'm glad my stone floor's fake', or 'If this were the Victorian age, I'd have to fetch my own water, work as a peasant and probably be burned at the stake for dreaming about some other age in the distant future where water flows freely from little metal spouts', I still smile in appreciation for the peaceful feelings the room invokes.
Now that I think about it, perhaps as I look at the clock on my laptop, and look back to the closed bathroom door, and look at the clock and back to the door once more, the family member who is holding the room hostage presently is pondering the same things.
I can wait a little longer.
More by this Author
Ann Street, Greenock, 1967 McLean Museum - Eugene Mehat My mother grew up in Greenock, Scotland. She was born there, at The Rankin Hospital, and lived in the town until she was nineteen years old. She still remembers...