Today, as I was stepping out of the shower, a vaguely familiar feeling hit me. I had experienced something similar many years ago, in a hotel room, also while I was stepping out of the shower. It was very momentary, flitting. I believe it is the feeling of being homesick.
Now, I rarely get homesick. I have been away from home often and long enough to develop a kind of callousness towards my physical location. Yet there is something about bathrooms that trigger a rather soulful mood in me. Not that there is anything exceptional about my bathroom at home. It is fitted with the usual toilet paraphernalia, and old enough that there isn’t a separate shower area. So it always takes me by surprise, to realize that the bathroom represents what I miss about home.
The bathroom is my safe haven. I have spilled secrets and tears in the bathroom. I have had brilliant flashes of ideas while in the bathroom. I have sung my heart out in the bathroom. The bathroom is my hiding place.
Enter at your own risk.