Monday, September 20, 2010


"Where are the girls?" I ask my ex-son-in-law.

"They are probably still in the bathtub," he said. "They've been in there for quite awhile."

I knocked on the door. No answer. The music was loud, obviously drowning out my voice.

"Girls, it's Grammy," I called out a bit louder.

Soon the door knob rattles. The door flies open and two wet girls wrapped in large towels tackle me.

"So what are you two doing," I asked despite the obvious.

"We're taking a bath," yelled Gabby. "And talking."

Two sisters slowly turning into prunes playing in the bathtub making memories, building a bond that will last a lifetime.

This took me back to another time. A time when we were little girls like these girls. Sleepover meant taking baths together. Probably because many of us didn't have bath tubs, so when we stayed with a friend, who did, we all piled in. Giggles, wet floor and towels flung around the room. Little girls.

My sister, Peg, and I talked about our visits back to the farm and how the sisters sooner or later ended up in the bathroom giggling and talking. The bathroom was and is a place where girls talk.

The days of sharing the bathtub are long gone. The memories of a tub full of giggling girls at Vivian's house still makes me smile.

"Are you finished," I asked.

"Not yet," Syd calls back over her shoulder as they both jump back into the over-sized tub. Two sisters still little girls on the verge of becoming young ladies. Ah, Neff Road. The memories travel over years and generations. Sometimes they surface in a bathtub.

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