This is another excerpt from 50 things that really matter.

There’s something magical about a bath. It can become a refuge from the outside world that a shower simply can’t. Add bubbles to the mix, and I’m instantly transported into another world.

There needs to be mountains of bubbles for it to be a real bubble bath, whether those bubbles are created from regular dishwashing soap or some fancy floral-scented concoction from a specialty shop. With the bathroom door closed, the shower curtain drawn to keep out the drafts and a candle lit somewhere nearby, I’m in my own secluded little world. I run the water as hot as I can stand it — nearly blanching myself in the process. I sink in and spend the first few minutes heating up, releasing tension and cherishing the bubbly bliss.

Then I lay back and ponder words like “relaxation,” “peace,” “tranquility,” “alone” and even “ahh.” I inhale them along with the tub’s steam, then exhale any negative feelings. As the heat evaporates into the steamy bathroom air, taking along my muscle aches, I send my heartaches with it. I swish my hands under the water, creating gentle currents of soothing calm. With my eyes closed, I tune in to the sounds of the suds snapping. Then I take a deep breath and submerge, drowning out any other cares I may have.

As the flame of the candle flickers outside the tub, I know it is my spirit reviving and dancing, eagerly awaiting my body to resurface and join life again.
By Jennifer Kushnier, 50 things that really matter, Rodale Press for Hallmark

I’m not a bath person. I prefer showers. So at first blush, this would not be on my bucket list of 50 things that really matter. Karen did prefer an exhilarating bath — preferably with, but not necessarily with bubbles. She would emerge from a foggy bathroom a new person.

That being said, I have to relate a different type of bath I rather do enjoy. After Karen died, I spent more time crying my eyes out until there were no more tears {actually there are always more tears}. As a result, my sinuses were — in a word — a mess.

As part of Karen’s holistic treatment, she enjoyed a soak in natural spring water with high magnesium, calcium and sulphur content and massages. By happenstance, shortly after she died, she [I] received a coupon for a sinus treatment, which included a dip in the tub filled with mineral spring water, aromatherapy and a massage. I took advantage of the offer … and have been hooked ever since. I still get seasonal allergy attacks, but not nearly as bad as before.

And I can relate to the soak sans the bubbles. The initially hot water immediately releases tension.

Then I lay back and ponder words like “relaxation,” “peace,” “tranquility,” “alone” and even “ahh” too. I inhale them along with the tub’s steam, then exhale any negative feelings. As the heat evaporates it takes along my muscle aches. I send my heartaches with it. I swish my hands under the water, creating gentle currents of soothing calm. I don’t want to leave my place enveloped in the water. When I do, I am blessed to have a massage therapist work on any specific aches or pains that may linger.

It’s a luxury I’ve indulged in over the past four and a half years. In fact, I have an appointment tomorrow. It’s an investment in me … so maybe bubble baths — with or without bubbles — should be one of the 50 things that matter.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial.