a scribble of jo

I take baths at three in the morning now, when the babies rest and sleep escapes my halfhearted grasp. It used to be after school, when Eric was alive, because he would see how tired I was by the time I got home from school and he would want to see me relax. He loved that kind of thing, taking care of me in that way no one else could.

Usually I would come in the door and before my keys were even out of the door, he would be standing next to me, taking my bags off my shoulder, handing me a seltzer. He’d usher me past the kids to the bathroom and tell me to take my time. Sometimes he’d keep the door propped open so he could pass bits of the day to me through the shower curtain. Other times he’d shut it so I could just rest and recalibrate.

Now when I wake in these no-man’s-land morning hours and no tossing will settle the dust, I find myself turning on the water.

It’s not even a comfortable tub.