The Old Bathroom

This morning I was thinking of the way my mom used to put her hair up on both sides when I was little and we lived in a different town. I decided I would be like the old her today. I used different clips than she did of course. Hers are long gone. I remember watching her get ready for work from my room, the bathroom was right next to it. I remember the wicker shelf that we kept toiletries on. Long gone now. I remember her leaning into the mirror, checking the pattern of her face. She still does this. I remember the cast iron bathtub that I fell on when I was 10. I still keep the memory of the blood gushing from my nose. But the claw feet of the tub are long gone. The bump remains. I remember bits of the wall paper. Old-timey ad campaigns. Torn away long ago. I can trace the Moorish arches of the antique gas heater over and over again. White and red hot, the ceramic radiants made me wonder about far away places before I ever knew that there was a land named Morocco where windows look like sharp petals seeking out the sun. Those pieces long ago became dust. I remember the piece of me that was washed away in that bathroom. My baby tooth, I don't know which one, whirled away down the drain of the sink as I prepared it for the tooth fairy. That night I left a note of pleading and explanation in its place. The money, tooth, and note are all long gone. Now I remind your sister to cover the drain with a towel before her tooth becomes lost along with mine. Everytime a tooth falls out we remember my mistake together. I did not like the style of the bathroom floor. I am glad that it is long gone. The bathroom had two doors with old handles, I remember the sound of them closing and opening. I don't remember knocking then. My sense of urgency is long gone. I can wait Frost.
These things gave me memories. These things left my life. I don't know if these things gave me happiness or not. They've just become things that I have stashed away even though time tried to trick me into thinking they were long gone. Time isn't always so crafty.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.