Tactile

Funny how memory works, isn't it? I've showered far more often than not over the past 13 years, opening and closing a shower curtain the vast majority of those times. Last week, however, as my fingers touched the shiny side of my shower curtain, I got a glimpse of John's old shower curtain instead of my usual mindless routine, and found myself momentarily transported back in time.

"Why do you have the map on your shower curtain facing inside the shower instead of out?"
"Why not?? I can see it when I'm in the shower that way."

I laughed and mentioned that I thought shower curtains were printed as decoration, rather than for personal amusement while showering. John resolutely rejected my argument. His opinion was that if he had picked out a shower curtain that he liked, why the fuck wouldn't he look at it while he showered? Didn't what he want to see on a daily basis matter more than what a possible visitor might see on rare occasion?

He was right.

I was lying with my head in his lap on his beige and white striped sofa bearing a rip with three inch-long sides of a square on one arm. I had always played with the rip. John never noticed it, but I just couldn't keep my fingers off the imperfection. For three years, without fail, when I sat on his sofa, I sat next to the hole, feeling and poking along the fraying edges of the inconsequential cosmetic imperfection. The day we were discussing shower curtains, I was either newly pregnant, or newly not, and I needed him. I needed his perspective, his practical approach to life that was mirrored in seemingly silly things like facing the shower curtain toward himself, and keeping his fingers from creating a bigger hole on his sofa.

While I don't know where he is right now, I find I still need John's acceptance and perspective. He quieted a part of my soul that needed soothing, and sometimes still needs soothing today. I still need quiet reminders to stop picking at imperfections and to enjoy what I like in my own way. I hope he is still doing those things for himself.