On the way home I start to think about what to write. Going back over my day, like reading back in a book to remember exactly how you arrived where you are.
I think about what we will have for dinner and whether we will sit outside for the first time. I think about what I will do before anything else when I walk through the door. To my surprise, it is writing.
A list of today:
Going for walk without a coat for the first time
The brown fields on the drive home, familiar and marvellous
The smell of hyacinths as I open the front door
The sunshine through our bedroom window
Not noticing time passing
Feeling really hungry as I wait for him to come home for dinner and make myself hungrier reading recipes-butternut squash, pistachios, pastry- from a shiny magazine, and then hungrier still with my dreams on an empty belly.
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