The Strange Colours
when home becomes resting place for stories
Before writing this, I took that tube of the hand cream and massaged my fingers, dabbed a bit of lavender oil and thought about that song which makes me feel good because I am feeling too lazy to search the ear buds.
It’s past ten pm here, while brushing my teeth I heard some words, I knew I had to write before I sleep or my night would be spent hearing those words.
Since past few months my home looks like a walk in resting place of a medic, apart from books and nerf guns ( there’s another story about nerf guns which I will share some other day) you will see masks everywhere and his scrub suit and sometimes my inhalers. I have already talked about my inhalers here.
So today I ignored the sadness looking back, the scrub suit which needs to be ironed for tomorrow, the scrub suit which needs to be washed and the scrub suit which he wore today, each in different rooms.
Because the ratio is 2:1 sometimes I feel I am living in a boys dorm but it’s okay. I have become used to of this mess, of my son’s company since past two months, the regular pattern of home schooling, the simple food which I am cooking and the best part there’s too much reading going on and if you read me here writing too.
We don’t need much to stay happy but we realise this very late, most of the time we are too lost chasing those unicorn dreams and ignore the reality.
Tomorrow I will restore the home for the weekend and plan the menu today I let it be messy, these strange colours have become familiar, these stories I let them speak to me.
