Water

Anonymous

As the scalding hot water cascades over me, I feel as if all the pressures and pains that I have endured throughout the day slowly run down my body and plunge to the bottom of the drain. While the steam rises to the ceiling as dried sweat and soap suds swirl down, the water hisses against my skin, relaxing my aching muscles and overactive mind. While many people think Disney World is considered the happiest place on earth, I personally appreciate the complete serenity a shower can uphold. The power it contains to clear your mind as it clouds your mirrors, it’s medical abilities to provide a blissful, temporary isolation, and the way how while the hectic world may be spinning around you, the shower curtain acts as a shield protecting you from the horrors.

I was 4, 6, and 9 when my mother lost three of her babies due to pregnancy complications. Although I was too young for my parents to explain, I remember each of the following checkups in which my mother was begging for answers. Why, out of all people, was this happening to her? Why, after multiple attempts she was unable to provide me a playmate? And why, after successfully having me, couldn’t she do it again?

In addition to remembering all of the bickering and arguments, I also recall the way she coped with the pain of losing her own. Specifically, after the third and final miscarriage, the water bill in our house was maniacally high. Three times the average amount we would pay monthly. And my mother was the reason why. She would spend hours on end locked inside the bathroom, reaching to the point where the steam would dim my bedroom lights. After days of my father trying to put an end to her water-wasting habits, he finally surrendered, leaving herself to drown behind the bathroom door. There were even some evenings I would hear her sporadically cry while the water plunged to the floor and slowly stopped as the water ran for longer. When I reached an age of maturity, she finally revealed to me why she would spend decades hogging the hot water. “A shower”, she simply stated, “is better than any ibuprofen, painkiller, or therapy money can buy”. Even though I stared at her as if she sprouted an extra head, I took her words into consideration.

At the start of my sophomore year, I became desperately devoted to my education as I knew it was my escape from the chains of my regret and mourning. I packed my schedule with vigorous classes, demanding extracurriculars, and numerous sums of responsibilities to deafen the weeping soul dying for attention living within. As I absorbed every detail in textbooks and memorized every fact, I became inconsiderate of my true emotions and only diverted my focus on good grades and high test scores. I started to believe that academic perfection would be the only way to redeem myself in my grandfather’s eyes- to make up for what I had not done as a granddaughter.

But, when the library would close and soccer games were complete, I would always find myself in the midst of a hot shower, realizing that striving to achieve a sense of perfection was mistaken. That he was looking down on me proud of what I’ve become, like what the three angels do for my mother. While life occasionally may look grey and dull, I’ve realized I am the only one who can truly decide what it means to move on and move forward. As long as the hot water is running, the rest of the world ceases to exist and I am it’s ruler. So, as I begin my journey into the unknown, I know wherever I am in the world, whatever fate chooses to throw at me, I can always find my peace in my expensive showers.