Desperate times, desperate measures.

I raided the stash of bubble bath I keep on hand for Lily visits today.
It has been a hard week.
My choices were Cheering, Clearing or Calming.
Tempting as it was to pull out all the stops and throw all three packets in the bath, I went with Calming.
Just the thought of being able to cheer, calm or clear by a sprinkling of sparkle into running water has a transforming effect on me.

I am six. I peel open the red packet of Tinkerbell bubbles. I sift the red grains through my fingers, watching the water swirling to a glorious pink while the bubbles rise. I climb into the tub, through the white froth and I am a mermaid in an ocean of pink.

My day of bike riding, knee scuffing, brother's teasing, and other spilled milk is replaced with visions of doll houses, cakes made of sawdust, bedtime stories and tiny Dutch shoes made of chocolate.

Out of the pink water, I slip my Tinkerbell powder puff over my small hand. With each pat of the mitt against my body clouds of sweet fairy dust billow around me. Magic. I leave little white footprints across the hall, close my bedroom door.

My bedroom, a haven of pink and all things familiar comforts me. In a clean nightgown I sit at my dressing table and brush my hair. I am a princess, the dragons of the day have been slayed. My bed is turned down and lights from my Grandmother's barn sift through my eyelet curtains casting veils of lace on the walls.

I hear the familiar light steps of my Mother in the hallway, she reads to me.
She kisses me goodnight and reminds me, she loves me all the world and a bushel and a peck.
I am calm.