Settled under the nice warm curving glasses of the bathtub, left hand rested one the side of the tub. In the background the train chugged along on its contraption, the rest of the tub captivated with water that was inviting. The air was somehow different. Quiet and peaceful, not to be disturbed by the slightest sound. But the train made along chugging sound, followed by the whistle, which soon faded away into nothing. The doors opening into the train station, and with that all the sound, shattering and reassembling the quietness.
But it was the water that was holding the world together. The brown, soft and bubbly water. She was a part of the whole world. Her body was engulfed in all of this greatness, and it was all that she knew. Completion, tranquility, as she becomes one with the bath water.
She felt a small hand upon her. This was not just any hand, but one that she knew well and always loved. A hand that brought nothing but goodness, pure and simple goodness, this was a good hand, one that she would be sure to remember. It was the hand of her father.
Her father, simple and plain. The same reviving air of wetness. The one that she never thought to be possible, but now that he had been reborn, she could not help but think how much she loved him. The wetness remained unchanged in it's liquidity. She could feel him, his lightness in all this solidiness. With him, even her reach could not slip.
Conscious, yet still asleep. This was what he had been all her life. There was little to ask, but with his right hand, came the voice of a mother. This woman was a wonder, this woman was her mother and she was in love with her. Such a strange feeling, but one that she thought she could get used to. The ups and downs were no longer feeling like ups and downs. There were no hills and valleys, just one beautiful plane.
She did not care for the compliments and plaudits of the world. She cared only for the sweet voice of her mother. Of her mother, who's name was an angel, whose being was a gift from the heavens. Again, she did not care for the world. She cared only for him, her father. One who was a gracious presence in her life, and one whom she loved for the little that he gave. Considered a good man, yet it was this woman whom brought forth the goodness in him. Her mother.
She could feel the scene all around her. She could feel the mother and father, and the air was moistened. She could feel the cool, smooth and comforting counter top right under the bathtub. The smell of the shampoo and soap, and the lights that were shining down are the ceiling of her bathtub.
With her eyes closed and a sound mind she could come to know the world through all the wonderful sensations that it gave. A simplicity that still had peace. Immersing in the warmth of everything and one, she would no longer worry about tomorrow.
The next day would come, and all that it was, would come again.
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