There is a white bathtub on the second floor of my in-laws house. I took a shower in it the morning after we arrived to visit a few days ago..
As I was washing my hair, I remembered. This is the bathtub I took a bath in the day I got married. September 22nd, 1990.
My father-in-law and mother-in-law, Morrison and A.J. Hodges, took me into their home in September of 1990 and treated me like a daughter. I met their son in Tokyo, and flew from Tokyo on a fiancée visa to The United States.
My home was in Canada, but Nick, my fiancée, and I were going to be married in his parents church in Wayzata, Minnesota and not in Canada where my parents lived. I wouldn’t be able to take a bath at my father’s home or my mother’s home the day I got married.
On Avenue K in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan is a bathtub I bathed in as a child. I would like go back to Canada and knock on the door of my childhood home and ask, “May I please take a bath?”
I will stand on the grey cement front steps with my towel, Dove body wash, Garnier Fructis Fortifying shampoo and cream rinse with Hydra Recharge, and politely ask to bathe in my childhood home.
“I lived here as a child. I am travelling around the world taking baths in all the homes I have lived in. I brought my own cleaning supplies. I promise to clean up my mess.”
One of the bathtubs I use to bathe in is in Saint Paul. Perhaps I could start by asking there, it is only a thirty minute drive away from where I am staying. Or perhaps I will just cling to my memories and move on.
Learn from the past, look to the future, but live in the present. Petra Nemcova
I can not take a bath in my past, as I can not time travel. And I don’t know if there will be bathtubs in the future, so I will live in the present and take a bath where I am today.
My husband’s parents are moving next year. I don’t know if we will come back to visit them in this home before they move.
A home holds memories. A dining room holds memories of shared stories of birthday cakes and Christmas turkey, family dinners and holding hands while praying. Rooms hold memories of first visits with babies, and a white bathtub holds a special memory of the day I got married.
Today I will take a bath in the white bathtub I bathed in the day I got married.
And later today I will make a list of all the bathtubs I have bathed in. A bucket list of bathtubs.
Do you have a special memory with a bathtub? Please tell me in the comments, I really want to know.
