Last Monday in the Algarve with my sisters.
Today the house is powdered inside and out with fine red dust.....and fine white dust - the men still on the roof, re-pointing the crumbling cement between the bricks on the wall above the conservatory. A thick layer on the back doorstep, all over the re-cycling bins, in the soap dishes in the bathroom, on the windowsills, the loo seat - drifting in through the sash window cracks.
The point of all of it is to stop the rain leaking into the kitchen....it's only dust. But coming home tonight from town in the icy cold dusk with a few bits of Christmas shopping, a new haircut and a bad mood ( a misunderstanding with my husband about where to meet me) the dust everywhere feels heavy as wet sand only adding to my already gritty frustration.
I'm probably missing the company of my sisters and the easiness....the peacefulness....... the meditating....the warmth...the loveliness of the light......the music of the waves....the no responsibilities...the no decisions ( except which cafe on the beach to walk to for lunch)....where someone makes your bed every morning and changes your bath towel..... and every night there are 3 bowls of crisps on the table and a new DVD to watch - a story to escape into.
Wanting my respite to go on forever - like a swelling wave that never breaks.
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