It has been sanctuary, confessional, haven and refuge. Its white purity is a highlight of the world, a solace in its corner of wood and beige tones. Its flush is sure and comforting. There is a heater next to it, for warmth in winter. It was a cold winter.
You may think it strange to write about such a thing, but it has been a constant and an anchor for me these past months. Come in, flip on the light, open the shade, and it’s something out of childhood, where there was another warm close room with a john in the corner. The cat liked to sit on that one, too.
Have you gone across the country, left home, been abandoned, been lost? Then you know what it is like to be without one. The ones in bus stations and Interstate rest stops don’t count, not like this.
Be well, steady friend. I’m glad to have known you.