The Old Lady That Lived in the Bathroom by René M. Rodríguez-Astacio
POETRY
Once there was a lonely old lady
who lived in a small bathroom.
She spent her days down on her knees,
Scrubbing all the dirt, crust, and pee—
The bathroom was never clean!
Her hands were calloused and were peeling from
All the bleach and cleaning products.
She mixed her Fabuloso, Windex, and Lysol
Into one potent and spicy concoction
Using her toilet as a cauldron. The fumes
Burned her nose hairs and eyebrows.Then one day all the tiles from the walls
b r o k e
and s ha t ter ed on the floor.
Distraught by the mess, the lady grabbed her broom
And scrubbed the walls
Until all there was was cement.
Then, she searched for some glue
And tried to revert the spell.
But with each passing day, daylight grew shorter
Until she was enveloped by the dark,
Alone and forgotten.Unable to see, the old lady couldn’t clean
And she started to weep.
She needed to ready the bathroom for...
For..Hmm? Why was she cleaning the bathroom?
Who was going to use it?
She could not remember.
But she knew she had to finish cooking and do the laundry too!
Slowly, the old lady felt her bathroom shrink
Until she couldn’t move.
No one came for her.
Then, on a cold morning, the broken tiles began to glow.
Awoken by the sudden brightness,
The old lady gathered all the pieces
And tried to put them together and back into the walls.
With each piece finding its match, the old lady began to hear voices.
First, she heard children laughing. It warmed her withered heart.
Then she heard them call “Benita.”
Who was Benita? She wondered.
To find out, she knew that she had to continue and finish the task.
With each piece in its correct place, the bathroom grew back
To its original size, bit by bit.At last, the old lady placed the final piece into the wall.
For a moment nothing happened.
But then a door took shape on the wall.
The old lady tried to open it but there was no handle.
Then suddenly she remembered that she needed to use the magic words!
With her broom in hand, she took a deep breath and chanted:
“Miguel, Jose, Emigda y Marisel”
Lo and behold, the door opened, and in came a tall man and four children.
“Benita, there you are!” They said and greeted the old lady with a hug.
That day Benita left her bathroom and cooked Christmas dinner.
Throughout the day, many other children came and went.
And whenever it seemed like the room would shrink around her again
She chanted each of the other children’s names,
“Cynthia, Miguel, Luis, Carlos, Mariliana, Ale, René.”
René Rodriguez-Astacio (he/his/él) is a professor of secondary English Education at Fresno State by day and a storyteller at heart. His work, writing, and interests are fueled by his experiences and identity as a bilingual queer Puerto Rican. He is an avid reader, amateur cuentista, and die-hard fanatic of children’s and young adult and literature. He furtively writes in his spare time about fantastic worlds, Puerto Rican queer teens, cuentos, and the occasional spur-of-the-moment poem. A nerd at heart, you can always find him hanging out at bookstores, record shops, and theme parks.
