You keep all your shower things in a bag. It’s brown and zips on two sides. It holds your toothpaste, razor, deodorant, and a few other miscellaneous items. Every few weeks (and if we are lucky, every week) this shower bag appears in our bathroom. You hang it on the towel rack and it’s a little reminder that you’re home for a few days.
I hate this bag. It means that you aren’t settled yet. You aren’t here every day to store those items in the bathroom drawers. I keep one empty for you… but it will stay empty, for at least another year.
I hate this bag because it means you have to leave soon. It means your stay is not forever and the road is calling you back. It means you’ll be missing more bedtime stories to our daughter, early morning snuggles with her bedhead, and the never ending laughter and smiles she gives to me daily.
This bag means you’re missing laying next to me, your wife, and talking about how our day went before we drift off to sleep. The bag means you’re not here to argue with me and then make up. You’re not here to lounge around lazy on Saturday while we do laundry and eat junk.
The dreaded shower bag… it means you’re bringing in money so I can be home with our daughter. It gives me the flexibility to be the momma I want to be. It gives me freedoms that you don’t have the luxury of enjoying. The shower bag has given me security and a strong sense of compassion for you. I could not do your job or sacrifice my time away to give you the security I feel every day.
The shower bag has been a constant in our life–dating, marriage, and having our daughter. I am so thankful for man who carries this shower bag and brings it everywhere he goes.
But the shower bag also holds a lot of resentment. Resentment from me… that you aren’t here to help. Anger because sometimes it feels like I’m drowning in life and my lifejacket is four states away. The shower bag appears and I love that it comes with my husband. But I also get frustrated. Why can’t you read my mind and know what I need help with?
The shower bag needs to go. But I hope it leaves my husband behind… I miss him.