I want a bathrobe, deep and furry, an Abominable Snowman robe that wraps around me firmly, plucking me out of life’s snowdrifts, a geisha-wrapping robe, that snuggles me so I can barely move, taking tiny mincing steps that do not splash my coffee, cuffs sliding over my hands to make them delicate, almost invisible, collar brushing my neck softly like a cat’s plumed tail. I want a bathrobe that forgives cheesecake and Girl Scout cookies and the extra helping of lasagna, that flatters me poetically, that dusts the floor ahead of me with suitable obeisance, that feels honored to wrap my middle-aged body. I want a bathrobe that all the other clothes envy because I love it so much, washing it all by itself with the soap that comes in a bottle–not the box detergent with its look of cat litter gone wrong–drying it gently and hanging it on a hanger in between wearings, behind me in the mirror, so I can see it, always, even when I am putting on lipstick and clothes that do not love me—see it waiting to hold me, see it wishing that I was wearing it as much as I wish I was.
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Lydia Ondrusek is a long-married mother of two who describes herself as busy writing her way out of a paper bag. Her fiction and poetry have been published in venues that include GUD, Apex Magazine, Flash Fiction Online, and Deep South Magazine. Her middle grade story series King of the Marshmallows is epubbed by Echelon Books. You can find her online at lydiaondrusek.com, at thelittlefluffycat.com, and far too often on Twitter, where she is known as @littlefluffycat.
Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.