bathroom…
water, when we enter the bathroom, or even before we enter it, the dazzling glossy whiteness of the tiles appears as heaven is imagined in the minds of the religious. So white that even though its shadows make it appear to be tones of light grey, still its whiteness is glacially cold, stark and yet its always warm in its functionality, because of the tank in the airing cupboard and the towel rail which always warm from the hot water in the tank. The bathrooms functionality reminds you of early mornings that become dull, days working from home or mornings preparing to go to work. We would prefer to spend time in the libraries in the house with the mix of chairs bought from Conran or Ikea. The bathroom has its own particularly gentle existential attractions, protecting you, obviously, from the anxiety that potentially awaits you when you face the outside world. Whilst there is a bath which your partner uses every other morning, sometimes you sit on the stool beside the bath, but usually on the toilet leaning against the white wall talking about your dreams, your sleeping, and these days about the effects of aging. When the children were young we would sit on a stool and watch and wash their hair before towelling them dry and using the hair dryer in the bedroom. So long ago, now they are middle aged and even their children are older then they were in your memory… here though you are at last old, no longer sure you even have the right to have opinions about the future, still you cannot stop as finitude haunts you. Step by step. Gesture by gesture.
Outside the shower, dressing gown hanging off the radiator, other things discarded on the stool, waiting for the hot water to fall from the rain shower. The water falls, after washing your hair the plastic bottle falls onto the shower tray, missing your feet, eyes closed beneath the water running over your head, cascading down and the sound of drops striking the tray, the sound of drops striking the plastic bottle of hair shampoo on the shower tray by your feet. The noise and the heat of the water truly relaxes you in a long shower, it is pointless to think of being in the stream of water with another person in a shower even the most beautiful body is not as desirable as it once was, too old, to concerned about falling rather than enjoying another’s body, pressed against the white tiles. Laughter in the water. In the flow of water you think of Epicurus and is that Serres in the background of your mind. And then you use the sponge and shower gel soaping you body and rinsing. Not obsessively but laughing. Water stopped, feet still in water that is draining a little to slowly. Wiping down the glass. You step out onto the mat put on your glasses and find her sitting on the toilet seat in her dressing gown looking at you with a quizzical expression on her face… How long had she been sitting there waiting?
