The tenderness in the Corner - The corner bathtub in my home
Among the many Spaces and furnishings at home, the one that makes me most attached is undoubtedly the corner bathtub quietly curled up in a corner of the bathroom. It is neither flamboyant nor noisy. Like a gentle old friend, it quietly waits in the crevices of life, providing me with a place to be alone. Every time my gaze touches it, it seems as if even time slows down its pace, filtering out the hustle and bustle and restlessness outside the door, leaving only a kind of peace wrapped in tenderness.
This bathtub is not a luxurious design. Its lines are simple and smooth. The porcelain white color, under the warm yellow light, glows with a pearl-like luster, as if it had been kissed by moonlight. It is ingeniously placed at the diagonal of the bathroom, like a humble hermit, occupying the corner without contention or competition, yet transforming the originally cramped space into a magical one. There was no elaborate ceiling above, only a small frosted glass window that let in a little natural light. When the dawn broke, golden rays of sunlight slanted down, leaping on the water surface. As dusk fell, the moonlight poured down like mercury, gilding the misty water vapor with a hazy silver edge. The water vapor rises in the light and shadow, like a gossamer veil, like a fairyland, and also like a poetic annotation of life.
Every time I finish a day's hustle and bustle and return home with a tired body, what I look forward to most is walking into the bathroom, filling a VAT with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender essential oil, and watching them create pale purple ripples on the water surface. Gently sliding into the embrace of the bathtub, the water ripples tenderly lifted the body, as if being gently soothed by a mother's hand. The touch of water is just the right warmth, not scorching, yet sufficient to melt the tension in the muscles and the fatigue in the spirit. The corner bathtub is not spacious, but it is just enough to accommodate one person's world - enough for me to stretch my limbs without feeling empty and desolate. It is like a warm cocoon, isolating the hustle and bustle of the outside world, leaving only the gentle murmur of the flowing water, the long breath, and its own heartbeat. Closing my eyes, the crisp sound of water droplets tapping on the edge of the bathtub fills my ears. It's like the white noise of nature or a wordless lullaby, leading me to complete relaxation.
I often start a small ritual while taking a bath: close my eyes and listen to a piece of light music, such as Bach's "Goldberg Variations" or Debussy's "Moonlight", with the notes flowing over my heart like water. Or read a few pages of your favorite book, such as Woolf's "A Room of One's Own" or Wang Zengqi's essays. The warmth of the words resonates wonderfully with the touch of water. The buoyancy of water makes the body light, and thoughts gradually settle down, like a feather floating on the river of consciousness. Those matters that I didn't have time to think about during the day are now slowly emerging in the misty heat, like ripples on the water surface, spreading out in circles and then quietly calming down. Sometimes, I would place a cup of warm water on the small shelf beside the bathtub. Fine water droplets would condense on the cup wall, reflecting the warm light, as if studded with stars. Or a small pot of pothos, with its vines drooping over the water surface, and its tender green leaves gently swaying in the ripples, as if even the plants themselves were intoxicated by this tranquility. At this moment, time is no longer fragmented pieces but a long and complete river, flowing with the pure self.
This corner bathtub is not only a place to clean my body, but also a haven for my soul. It witnessed many of my silent moments - the relief of sitting there after overtime, letting exhaustion recede like a tide. There is the joy of smiling foolishly at the water surface after completing an important project. There is also a moment of self-healing after shedding silent tears in a certain late night. It never speaks, yet it is always inclusive, like a loyal listener, accepting all my emotions. It made me understand that the beauty of life is often hidden in these tiny and private moments, like pearls in a shell, which can only be discovered with a calm mind.
When the child was little, he also squeezed into this bathtub, splashing water like a lively little duck all over the floor, and his laughter was as clear as a silver bell. Back then, the bathtub was a paradise for parent-child interaction. I held his little hand and taught him to count the bubbles floating in the water, observing how they refracted the halo of the rainbow. Now that he has grown up, the bathtub has become my personal "healing space". Occasionally, my beloved would come in to chat with me for a while, or lean by the door, sharing the amusing stories of the day. The sound of water and laughter interwove, adding a touch of warmth and vitality to this corner. One winter night, we even brought red wine glasses and candles into the bathroom. In the rising steam and flickering candlelight, we shared our dreams and worries. At that moment, the corner bathtub became the most romantic corner in the home.
Home is composed of countless details, and the corner bathtub is precisely a gentle and bright touch among them. It doesn't occupy the prime position in the living room, nor does it show off the smoky atmosphere of the kitchen. However, in an unintentional way, it carries the most emotions and memories. It taught me that true happiness does not lie in the size of space, but in how to turn an ordinary corner into a haven that nourishes both the body and the mind. It is like a mirror, reflecting my attitude towards life - in the crevices of the fast pace, I know how to reserve a peaceful haven for myself. In the daily life of firewood, rice, oil and salt, don't forget to give your soul a little gentle comfort.
Nowadays, whenever friends ask me about my favorite corner at home, I always point in the direction of the bathroom without hesitation. They might be surprised by such an "unremarkable" choice, but only I know how many times of gentle healing are hidden in that small corner. It reminds me: No matter how busy you are, don't forget to give yourself some time, take a hot bath, read a leisurely book, listen to an old song, or just daydream quietly for a while. These seemingly "useless" moments are precisely the most precious background color of life.
Perhaps, happiness is just like this - in a quiet corner, there is a VAT of warm water, a wisp of fragrance, a moment of tranquility that belongs to oneself, and a heart that knows how to seek tenderness in the ordinary.
This is the corner bathtub in my home. It's ordinary but indispensable. It is not the center of home, but the anchor point of the soul, giving me a place to return to in this mundane world forever.