Jan. 4th, 2024

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My grandmother's bathroom was painted in white gloss enamel with so many coats that all the latches and corners had long been covered in drips and paint-blobbed rounded edges. There was a claw foot bathtub, a single outlet in the overly painted bare bulb medicine cabinet, and a toilet with an exposed brass connection from the tank to the bowl and a porcelain handle that was lifted upwards to flush. The shelves of the medicine cabinet contained odd items: paragoric, expired medications, a shaving brush and mercurochrome.



My grandfather passed away when I was two and my aunts and uncle had long moved away by that time. So, as with most family homes, everything inside entered a veritable state of stasis. That is, there wouldn't be anyone to renew or repaint rooms, purchase new curtains or replace shelf items.

Although she was intellgent, happy and gregarious, her loneliness was palpable. Everything tangible around her life seemed to be winding down.

I'd stay with her on an occasional overnight and one of the biggest things that has stuck with me all these years, is that at night, she would always leave a bare 15 watt bulb burning in one of the medicine cabinet sockets. It's low light cast soft shadows in the hallway and made me feel safe. All we had at home were 40, 60, 75 and 100 watt bulbs because what practical home would have any need for such a dim light? It just wouldn't make any obvious sense, but for me it was different.

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michaelboy

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