They used to have silly arguments about silly things, like what kind of towels to use during the week. When they got married, they got some nice towels to replace the threadbare ones that followed college students from one apartment to the next like the sunrise. He thought they should throw away the old ones, relegate them to dishrags at least. With a long-suffering sigh, she explained that the new towels could go in the guest bathroom, but for “normal days” the old ones would be hanging on the rack in the master bath. The others, apparently, were show towels. Who they were supposed to be shown to was unclear, and while he never had any real problem with the old towels, he figured what the hell – she was fun to argue with when the topic wasn’t important.

 

It became a joke between them, eventually. He was a heathen who stole nice towels from their guests, she wasn’t grateful for the nice gifts from their relatives and friends. Another thing to throw good-natured arrows at each other about when they were in that mood, and they were often in that mood.

 

It became a small kindness they could bestow on one another. When she’d had a particularly rough day at work, the next morning he would sneak in during her shower and replace the tattered towel with one of the new ones. If she had snapped at him without cause or criticized his cooking too many nights in a row, he would often find a thick, almost-new show towel waiting on the rack when he opened the shower curtain dripping wet. They still called them show towels, but they were showing something new now. That was typical of them, he showing her he wanted to take care of her and she showing him she was sorry.

 

When she left, she tried to leave all the show towels, but the last night she was in their apartment he snuck half of them into one of her boxes after she’d gone to sleep. He was sure she’d noticed when she unpacked, but they never talked about it.

 

Now he’s in a new place of his own, and he still has his share of the show towels. He got rid of a few of his ragged ones, but he uses old towels most days. When he’s had a bad day at work and soaks in the tub during the evening, he’ll drag one of the show towels out of the linen closet. But they’re never there unexpectedly anymore, and he’s slowly getting in the habit of just calling them his nice towels because they don’t show him the same things they used to.

 

11 January 2002

 

Ramblings        Back to Playgrounds of the Mind