I’ve been back a few days now. It’s still fresh in my mind. The voices, the air, the sounds, the tastes, the smells … the latter very much still real as I wear clothes that I had laundered in the days before I left. I cannot pinpoint what the fragrance is exactly, but it’s definitely the washing gel Ma uses. It takes me back a month.
The weeks I spent back home are still fresh in my mind. But once the clothes are worn and washed again, that lingering fragrance will be relegated to my memory along with the voices, the air, the sounds and the tastes. I’m trying my best to keep it all alive. It was such a good time, better than I ever imagined.
I got to see so many people, family and friends who really went out of their way and pushed the boat out to welcome me home, showed me that I am still a part of their lives despite the time and distance that sets us apart, and added their stamp to that book in my mind of memories. The food of my dreams in the months before was plentiful, the wine flowed, the coffees and teas were constantly refilled, the doors were always open, the friendship was always visible and the love without limits. I really did have the best time ever.
Who could have imagined that the weather would be as good as it was. The skies of endless blue, puffy clouds, then magical moonlit nights once the sun finally set. Walking along the beach, through towns and cities, navigating the rough undergrowth of the England Coast Path, cobblestone roads and a rope bridge no less, I returned with one pair of sandals less than I had arrived with as they had decided to split in two. Throwing them into the bin, they had served me well, taken me though three summers and lived up to their reputation of being comfort of the highest degree. The second pair, similar to the discarded black ones were debuted and got thrown into the deep end of being attached to my feet.
I take solace knowing that the days back home are no longer as long as those ones I got to enjoy this year. The clock in the photos just before Madness came on stage that evening in early August shows a quarter to nine, and the sky behind it is still bright and blue. Shutting the curtains and switching on the lights before half six this week makes me feel cheated out of that final scraping of summer everyone is enjoying back home. Chilly days will come of course, another thing that lessens the blow a bit as our best is yet to come as warm autumn days really make me think of England in the summer. This year will be a closer memory than those in the past. I’m still living it in my mind.
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