Cleaning up Nick and Zack’s bathroom, I see the half-empty bottle of Scope tucked in the back of the cabinet.
And it tears open my still healing wound.
I pull it from the cabinet and stare.
But I cannot bring myself to throw it away.
And I wonder how strange that is.
I remember Zack asking me to buy it for him – Spring of 5th grade (2010). And I remember thinking he must be starting to get interested in girls.
That cherished memory makes me smile at first but then it makes me cry.
Because that bottle of scope is so much more than just blue/green breath-freshening liquid…
It is the young man our son was just starting to become and a future that would be robbed. A future of voice changes, shaving, wearing deodorant without being reminded, a first kiss, holding a girls hand, a first date, first dance, the prom, first love, marriage, family….
And so I sit on a bathroom floor and smile and cry.
In a bathroom where toothpaste still gets left in the sink, on the counter and sometimes even on the floor and repeat showers still take place after I discover a dry bar of soap. Where a toilet seat is still left up and clothes are still scattered across the floor instead of in the hamper. And while I still offer gentle reminders, I don’t complain about it.
Instead, I give thanks in a bathroom for the simple reminders of life.