Sometime during the childbearing years, I gave up on fancy guest towels.
We didn’t have the luxury of using towels as art when I was growing up; we were a family of eight, with a single bathroom.
We often shared towels, hoping that there was an almost-dry one on the rack when it was our turn.
When I had my own place, it was fun to coordinate the shower curtain, bath rugs, towels and accessories with themes, color schemes, etc.
It was especially nice when we had that extra bath or powder room that was for guests.
We just returned from a visit where we had our own bedroom and attached bathroom.
There were more than a dozen towels that decorated that well- designed interior space.
There were embroidered patterns, lace trim, embossed panels.
There were carefully folded and pressed fingertip, hand and bath towels.
The unspoken message: “Don’t use these”.
We were directed to the less worthy, but more functional ones that were stored in a cabinet under the sink.
They were plain, white, fluffy, perfect.
Once used, they were to go onto some unadorned hooks on the back of the door. This way, they would not interrupt the symmetry of the towel racks and matching shower curtain.
We had a quick conversation about some of this on the 5 hour drive home.
We also talked about the use of abundant throw-pillows on the bed.
In colors that matched or contrasted with the bed linens, they were lovely to witness, hard to dismiss.
It would be fine if there were a place to put them; maybe an extra chair, clear space on a dresser, even a designated basket.
Ours just ended up on the carpet.
The use of decorative bed pillows was another luxury that my birth family could not afford.
My husband seemed to be thankful for that.
There doesn’t need to be that much effort to get to the pillow that is meant for a tired head.
It is good to be home.