Roots

Sources of Joy – Day 34

Yesterday, I won a prize. I shall receive a book in the post. What makes it special is that it is a novel translated from French by a recently-made Facebook friend. The idea of reading it on my forthcoming train trip to Porto appeals.

Today I had a lovely long chat on the telephone with a friend from the old country. By the old country, I mean Zimbabwe. Although different on so many levels, we share similar roots, and our general outlook, if not the same, is understood by the other.  This is a rare pleasure for those of us who live in a foreign land. Such kinship makes us feel whole again. She phoned me to cheer me up, and time well spent it was, for that it did.

I bought liquid soap yesterday chiefly because it is called “black orchid, smells sweet, and I needed soap. The deal maker was that it is a shade of purple, my favourite colour.

I am not fond of Bougainvillea particularly, but the colour of this one I see every day redeems it somewhat.

Sometimes, sources of joy are well-hidden. Either that, or the eyes are not willing to see.
I am in a state of flux. Calm does not come – or stay easily – in our household of fragmented conversations at the moment.  I trust it will settle soon. In the meantime, I took comfort at the fortuitousness of a Saturday without particular commitment, and mused about how vacuous time can seem when faced with the enormous weight of all the things which could fill it.

I shall be grateful for the oblivion of sleep tonight.

Allison