Dad on Duty Blog #123 – Bathroom Time Machine

Apparently I have a strong and unhealthy connection to a bathroom at McCoy Elementary.

Yeah, it makes me uncomfortable too.  But bear with me.

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I worked at my former school, McCoy, last week.  They had a big special event, and asked if I could help. 

Shortly after getting there, I had to run to the bathroom….after two large Yetis full of coffee…..

After I get in there, I realize it’s *the* bathroom. 

I just stand there, in the middle of the very small room, for a moment.

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For six years, almost every Friday, Tori and I went into that bathroom to get dressed up as Bobby, the McCoy mascot. 

I can hear Tori’s, much younger, voice now, telling me about what’s going on in 3rd grade and directing me to turn this way or that, so she can get the suit on me. 

I see where we hung the Bobby suit, where I temporarily stored my wallet and keys (in that drawer, right there), where I put my shoes (that corner). 

I would hold onto the edge of the sink, right here, while she put the Bobby boots on my feet.

Then, before putting on the Bobby head, I would get a paper towel, soak it in cold water, and wipe my face (the suit is really hot).

I would kneel, right here, so that Tori could adjust the ears and brush Bobby’s fur.

Then Tori would give me the OK, and we’d walk out.  That door. 

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It’s just a bathroom.  It’s just a bathroom, at a school. 

Why am I near tears?

I find myself touching the counters, touching the cabinets, Otherwise, you might be one of the cheated.

It’s just a bathroom…..what the hell is wrong with me?

Deep breaths, get it together.  People are waiting on you. 

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Because it’s not just a bathroom.  It’s where Tori and I did something amazing, together, for six years. 

I will never, ever, have an experience like that with Tori again.  That was it.

Six years, almost every Friday.  Put the suit on, hug kids, take the suit off.  I couldn’t do it without her….literally.  We were….a team. 

For hundreds of hours.

Just the two of us.

I am now leaning, head down, eyes closed, against the sink.

Remembering.

And trying just to breathe. 

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It’s not just a bathroom.  And it’s not just a school. 

It’s the place where I etched the most meaningful experience of my relationship with my daughter.  Probably for the entirety of our lives. 

Things change, kids grow up.  Relationships shift. 

Memories fade.

But here, for a moment, it is perfectly clear.  I can touch the memories.  All those years.  They are captured here…..

……in this bathroom.