Saturday August 28th
Day 129
I drive my husband to the airport. I don’t like goodbyes so I leave him in the car park and wave through the window till he’s a disappearing smile in his blue t-shirt and leather rucksack.
Much later, after a sweetcorn and beetroot supper, I sit with my eldest sister on our sofa, she wears my dressing gown and I borrow his which is huge and snuggly soft. We eat dark chocolate coated ginger and cranberries - her treat - and stay up watching a TV film long into the night. Something we couldn’t do growing up in Africa - long before we had husbands to leave and come back to, like kites in the sky.
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