It was my first day of vacationing at the beach, and the tub in the bathroom attached to my room is spectacular, very deep and white with a big silver faucet. It was heavenly. The water was just the right temperature, and the bubbles were almond-scented and light. And who doesn't feel quietly glamorous lounging under mounds of foam, hair in a bun, with the water loosing wispy curls at the nape of the neck? It feels like being in 1960s photograph.
I haven't felt really, truly happy very much since losing my dad. Mostly I feel like I'm wandering around in a haze, not really aware of my surroundings, floating along in the hopes that someone's going to shake me awake and tell me that of course everyone's okay, I was just having a bad dream. But tonight, alternately reading one of my favorite magazines (thank you so much, Taryn! ♥♥♥) and blowing loose suds at my exposed knees, the heartbreak wasn't nearly gone, but I did at least feel closer to being aware of the present.