I decided to take an Epsom Salt bubble bath tonight because I worked out for the first time in a very long time yesterday and I am SORE. I played some soft instrumental music on Pandora, lit some candles, poured myself a glass of red wine, then immersed these achy, out-of-shape muscles in a foam-filled, lavender scented tub.
I lay there for a few minutes with my eyes closed, trying to consciously and voluntarily relax every last muscle in my body. Suddenly, a memory visited me that was so incredibly vivid, it brought me to tears.
Tears of great joy and gratitude for having shared that moment with you.
And tears of immense sorrow and longing for all the moments that were taken away from us.
Can you guess the memory that triggered the tears tonight? I’m sure you can. Here is every detail I can remember, in hopes that writing them down will preserve them better.
I was stuck in traffic while driving home after a very long and stressful day at the hospital. You’d been off that day and you were waiting for me to get home. I remember you sent me a text telling me to hurry because you were starving.
I pulled my little black Honda Civic into our driveway, next to your beat up, filthy, hand-me-down Toyota Avalon, expecting to find you sleeping (and snoring) on the couch as I so often did. Instead, when I opened the front door, I instantly heard our wedding song (Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts) blaring from the second floor. I called to you, but no answer. So I went looking for you upstairs.
I followed the music into our bathroom, where I found you waiting for me in the bathtub covered in bubbles, surrounded by dozens of tiny flameless candles, a thin crust Hawaiian pizza from Dominos, and two wine glasses filled with Barefoot Pinot Grigio.
I must have had the goofiest grin on my face.
You said something like, “I thought you could use this after the day you had.”
And you were so right.
I joined you in the tub and we ate our pizza, drank our wine, and talked about everything under the sun, as we so often did. It couldn’t have been more perfect if you’d tried.
I miss you.
Life continues to move full speed ahead, and I’ve been granted new and beautiful blessings.
But I still miss you.
I miss your smile.
I miss the pizza.
I miss the wine.
I miss the conversations.
I miss all the things we will never share together.
And yet, I could never adequately explain how thankful I am for all the things we did share – like that night in the tub.