I see stories – a bathtub of flowers

I have been trying to think of a theme for my blog posts that might be of interest to my readers and be something I can consistently post. Today I was talking with my writing group and an idea came to me. One of the common questions writers hear is “where do you get your ideas?”

Well, I’ve always found the ideas easy. So, I’m going to try to test that assumption. I’ll post random pictures from my library and tell a very short story about it.  I hope you’ll find it entertaining.

A bathtub of flowers

It was only an old tub, I thought as we renovated the bathroom. The enamel was chipped, and it didn’t sit evenly on the cracked tiles.

The new tub would have jets and a beautiful tap. The new tub would have wide shoulders for candles and wine glasses.

We lifted the weight of iron with groans and grunts. Carefully down the stairs, through the open door and across the porch. If we left it by the side of the road, the city would come and cart it away. As we crossed the lawn, the memories seeped from the cracked enamel; my son’s baths as an infant, my hands supporting him as I rinsed soap from his eyes; sea battles with plastic ships eaten by bubble monsters.

I stopped walking and dropped my end. My husband grunted and dropped his. “I can’t let them take it,” I confessed. “Please, I’m not ready to let it go.”

We planted the flowers that spring and now I see beauty every time I look through my window.