Monday, November 21, 2011

Life Unmasked: It

I'm standing in my bathroom, immersed in stillness, breathing in and out rhythmically, having a mental stand off with the second-floor bathroom sink.

Bathrooms in my house are regularly neglected because I find little motivation to keep cleaning them when these boys of mine just.keep.peeing all over them; but every week or so I get sick of them smelling like a urinal, arm myself with an entire bottle of vinegar, pull my gloves up to my elbows and I normally emerge victorious.

Except for the upstairs sink.

It remains only partially cleaned, haphazardly tidied.

Simply, I can't bear to be faced with the upstairs bathroom sink for too long or else I see them reflected in the mirror, half hidden, half exposed: three positive pregnancy tests tucked behind the white drawers atop the vanity that I'd taken before that red Friday in September when I miscarried.

And in really digging in, really cleaning the sink, I'd have to make a decision. A decision to allow them to remain stacked atop of each other behind the white drawers atop of the vanity next to the sink

or ....

Last week I saw a friend who felt the tense in my shoulders, the strain across my chest with her therapeutic hands.

And she wondered aloud as her hands felt the tightness "what are you holding onto in there?"

She'd breathed out a huge breath and she urged me to let.it.go.

I tried. I breathed and I relaxed and I prayed for the stress in my chest to lift, for my body, my mind to let go to whatever tightness both had been harboring.

While some of it melted away, she'd said, there was more that would eventually have to release, too, before the strain would relax into peace.

It's like peeling the layers of an onion, she'd said. There are more layers yet to go.

I'd left her house feeling better but still heavy.

And then, here, in the bathroom this morning*, it hits me amid my silent standoff in from of that sink.

I hear music humming softly through speakers, two little boys playing together on the wooden floor and I see reflected in the mirror the white bodies of the those tests.

Gloves pulled up to my elbows,eyes brimming with tears, I do it.

I clean the sink.


Not just haphazardly tidy -- but really, really deep clean the sink.

I make the decision, hold the pink lines in my steadied hands

and I let go, one more layer peeled back, away.


*a morning last week.


Life: Unmasked

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