This is my place of comfort. Let the water wash away the salty tears. I’ve spent a lot of time on the shower floor. Sobbing, sulking, mourning. The vulnerability and the time to allow the mind to wander, again, becomes an easy window to the depression living in me. The water soothes me. The washing is symbolic. It becomes ritual to allow this moment to happen, pass, and fall down the drain. I emerge with a deep breath. The day continues.