My feet cross the white pine floors as I head towards the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. The door is slightly ajar -- so I knock in case someone is in it. I haven't seen a clock so I'm not sure what time it is.
No one answers, so I open the door with my right hand and step inside. Skylights line the ceiling and a wash of pure white light cascades across the bathroom floor. I glance at myself in the mirror...I look like someone who's been homeless on a beach for a decade. My hair is wild and defying gravity in every direction. I take a step closer to the mirror and crinkle my nose. It's hard to see because my contacts are glued to my eyes at the moment.
I pull my contact case out from my toiletries bag and safely pluck one, then the other, out of my eyes. I blink a few times to make sure their aptly re-watered before heading to the toilet. It's super fancy -- with a heated seat.
Ahhh...
I look up and watch the clouds roll by through the skylights. Birds chirp happily in the distance, and I feel like I'm peeing the way God intended it; under the sky serenaded by nature. I sit on the toilet a lot longer than I need to, because I'm completely relaxed here. I look around the bathroom in awe. It's large -- there's a jacuzzi tub adjacent to a slate rock shower. Skylights are above both of them.
I can't wait to lay in the tub and watch the stars at some point.
I wipe and flush, and then head back to the glass counter top sinks to wash my hands. The faucet is automatic and the water pours from a flat open-spout. This bathroom is pure heaven. It even smells like pine...or is that cedar? My nose is a bit stuffed so I can't really tell.
My allergies are probably kicking in...
I dig through my bag and pull out a 24hour non-drowsy anti-histamine because I realize that in addition to my nose being stuffy, my eyes are starting to itch. After I brush my teeth and wash my face, I turn on the shower and wait a few seconds for the water to adjust before stepping under the rain affect shower head. I wash with purpose; making sure to scrub extra hard under my pits because I think I was sweating a lot in my sleep. I stand there, letting the water pour over my head, down my face, and along my back before trickling on my feet and disappearing down a drain. I help myself to the top-of-the-line organic/environmentally friendly shampoos and soaps -- and then grab a complimentary robe from a hook on the wall adjacent to the shower door.
Steam fogs the mirror, but I know that when I swipe it away, and take a good look at my newly washed self -- I know that a cleaner version of me will be looking back. And, on some level, I really feel like this shower, in this little oasis of a bathroom, has helped to wash away some of the bad feelings I've been carrying around with me. The ones that try to tell me that I could have done more -- and it's all my fault; when I know deep down that it's not.
At least, that's what I'm hoping.
