Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I had a dream in the early morning hours that our back bathroom flooded and was finally ruined enough for me to call someone to come out and re-do the bathroom.
Steve and I and our good friends Matt and Ann "remodeled" it several years ago. I was tired of all the leaking and the mold, it was out dated and just plain gross. Steve came home one day to find me hammering out all the ancient 1970's tile. I had a big garbage bin under the window and I was swearing and tossing out broken tile. He freaked out.
That seems to be the way I do things, I get up early one morning and something in me has just had enough of what ever it is that is under my skin and I get to work, the size of the project doesn't intimidate me like it does Steve.
Ann and I laid tile and Steve bought the cheapest and ugliest shower stall he could find at Home Depot. I am almost sure he went in and asked them for exactly that, they know the type and took him to the secret ugly-and-cheap back room where they keep this stuff.
I painted the whole bathroom a deep red and put it a pedestal sink and a small toilet so we could actually bend over to dry off without banging our head or bottom against something.
It was an improvement but it still needs improving. We have the same mold, the same leaks and there is nothing more annoying than that shower. I remember when Stevie was sick and I had to work so hard to get her in and out of there. I also remember when she had a seizure and the medics had to come. They had to literally wrap her in fabric and drag her out, they couldn't fit to help her. It was one of the scariest days in all our lives. We thought we lost her that day.
I can't go there.
So I had this dream that the whole room finally gave and I called a contractor to come and rip the whole thing apart and make it right. He gave me this huge figure and I decided to save money by doing the demo myself.
I found a hidden in the wall a safe while I was tearing out a moldy piece of sheet rock. It wasn't a haunted house or bank style safe just one of those metal boxes with a lock you buy at the hardware store to keep your important documents and valuables in case there is a robbery or a fire.
I would never own one, not because I don't care but because nothing I value that much can be put into a safe. If the house burned and I could only grab one thing (this is assuming the kids were safely outside) I would grab my chest of photos. If there was a robbery everything could easily be replaced. I don't think they would steal Stevie's pillow, or her little pony. I don't think anyone would steal Noah's game ball or his baby shoes, not sure why they would want Aly's graduation picture or her folder of sketches I save from high school.
Do most people feel that way? I can't imagine caring about the normal day-to-day crap we accumulate over the years. I don't save. One year the mice in the rafters ate through a whole box full of baby clothes and books. I was sad but the best parts of that time are stored in my heart, this stuff was just stuff. I did get my revenge and the Clarks Pest guy sent the stinky little mice to heaven. I am not a fan of violence but I will not share my house with pests that destroy my safe haven. They can live outside, on the roof, in my trees. They can eat all the nuts and fruit they want out of my garden but do not come in and poo all over my house and keep me up all night making holes in my wall. I turn into the terminator. So much for being a pacifist.
Back to the dream: I find this make-believe safe and it is full, full, full of stuff. There are business documents, all hand typed, a bible, small toys, an old fashioned calculator that still worked, photo's of a man and a woman. There was a worn photo album of a little baby boy, he was very dark skinned. There were report cards and homework and from a catholic school, two paddle boards, and a box of clothing. The documents had mine, my sisters and Aly's names on them. It was very creepy.
I called Aly in and said, "Oh Aly there is a big box of vintage clothing in here you better come and see if you want it before I dump all this stuff" she came in with her usual real life attitude that lets me know that she finds me annoying and it is pure torture to have to pretend she is related to me. I pulled out a few things and they got her attention, then I pull out this beautiful yellow satin dress, very retro, very unique and she began to cry, she knew this dress...
Then I woke up.
I wanted to go back to sleep so badly. I wanted to finish the dream and find out what the dress meant and where all the connections were but I couldn't. I couldn't shake the dream all morning so I decided to write it down. I figure once I am less sleep fuzzy It will make more sense.
Right now all I want to do is take a big hammer to that back bathroom and erase every scary and sad moment. I want to buy a pretty shower and forget that the things that happened there happened. I only want to remember the look on Stevie's face when she would come out of a two hour shower all pink cheeked an smelling like flowers. She could never start the day without a lot of water and steam. She liked her hair washed and soft clean clothes to wear. She only wore cotton. She didn't like zippers or scratchy fabric and never wore anything made from an animal, not even leather shoes.
I think my daughter was happiest with a cup of espresso, a worn novel, her green chucks, a soft cotton T and sunny spot to nest.
I miss her.