The woman shut the bathroom door behind her, took one glance at her worry lines and furrowed brow and turned away. She set her towels on the make-up chair, stood with her hands on her waist and paused.
“Can I really do this?” she asked herself.
She sighed, tugged the clip from her hair, reached down to turn on the hot water, remembered the candles she had saved. She dug into the recesses of her middle drawer, extracted four flowered blocks and carefully placed one on each corner of the tub wicks.
A waft of gardenia filled the room.
A slight curl teased the corners of her lips.
She poured a capful of bath salts under the faucet and stood, in a stupor, staring at the bubbles that quickly formed a blanket of glistening bursts and pops.
“Wow,” she suddenly realized, “I’m watching bubbles grow.”
She shook her head.
She waited until the froth reached the rim, began to dip her toe into the heat, pulled back abruptly.
“My pillow,” she quipped. “Where’s my special pillow?”
It sat in its usual place on the shelf. She took it down and hugged it to her breast.
“I guess I’m a little stressed,” she concluded.
Finally, she slipped below the bubbles into the steaming pool.
She lay her head back, closed her eyes, let herself drift.
Why do we fret so much over taking time for ourselves?
Who set up this paradigm?
Do we truly need to buy into it?
We feel guilty when we reward ourselves or try to find a small space in a harrowed schedule for rest or rejuvenation.
We conjure up images of selfish beasts that don’t care or do enough and face the wrath of family and friends if we can’t finish the task list, advance the cause and put on a happy face in the process.
To make matters worse, we grapple with the impossible paradox of being our best at the expense of ourselves—a lose-lose proposition that erodes our youth and steals our joy.
Stop.
Your loved ones want all of you, not the leftover scraps.
Sometimes, they may have to wait a while.
What will it take for them to re-discover the real YOU, the one they fell in love with, shared so many treasured moments—the one hidden behind the inner angst and agitation?
Let me share a secret.
If you give them a chance, you’ll find that they survive just fine without you while you mend and refresh.
Actually, it’s up to you.
Claim a sacred interval.
Return to us whole.
We all win.
The woman’s eyes opened softly.
She rolled her neck and sighed a different kind of sigh—one punctuated by an easy, comfortable smile.
Funny how she didn’t notice the streaks on the mirror or the toothpaste on the counter.
She saw only the soft candlelight and a warm terry cloth robe.
P.S. FOR WOMEN ONLY!!! (and perhaps a few very smart men)
The Holidays have been called the best and the worse of times—a time of celebration, fraught with occasional bouts of loneliness. Let’s crank up the happy and turn down the sad.
That’s A View From The Ridge…
Ridgely Goldsborough
