We have two showers in our house. The one in our teensy master bathroom rocks! All four of us used it, although not at the same time, ever since the kids graduated from baths. Even Shadow got her rare shampoos in there.
The shower had the perfect water pressure—hard, but not, “I think I just lost a nipple down the drain” hard. Super, duper hot-- just on the edge of scalding. My sister called it “glorious” and invoked her sisterly privilege to use it when she visited.
Sometimes, when we were in a hurry, I’d see if the kids would use the other, perfectly serviceable shower, and occasionally Margaret would oblige, but Jack would not. The kids’ shower was newer, their bathroom brighter and more spacious, but the water pressure and showering experience just could NOT compare.
So a few weeks ago I noticed a leak. We now have a ripped up ceiling, and our master bedroom shower needs to be replaced. We have neither the funds nor the energy to deal with it right now. Tile shopping and grout color selection? No thank you.
So the three of us have been traipsing up to the kids’ shower. We balked at first, and Margaret is taking even fewer showers than USUAL, which is saying something, but, we have adapted.
While at first I couldn’t imagine using another shower, my desire to be able to go out in public broke down any lingering resistance. And now, after several weeks, the morning routine and sub-par skin-sloughing have become part of my day.
It made me think of Jack. Well, doesn’t everything?
Our new daily living has become a poor substitution for the life we wanted for our family. We trudge along, in a world that seems off-kilter, trying to adapt and make the most of what lies before us. We do it, but that doesn’t mean we like it. It doesn’t mean we don’t consider what came before to be far, far superior.
But we do it, out of necessity, and bit by bit we get used to it. It has been so long since the accident, I’ve got to say it would seem a little strange to have Jack come racing down the stairs today. To tell us about how the middle school dance went. To talk Margaret into playing outside.
Because we have started to adapt to his absence.
I suppose one can get used to almost anything.
But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.
