Escapism

I have a lot to be grateful for- I am grateful for instance that to put milk in my tea all I have to do is go to the fridge.  I don’t have to get up at 4 am and have close contact with a cow’s udder.  But today is a bit grey and there is a tragedy playing out in my extended family and for one reason or another I am thinking back to a childhood summer.

Some images of a day- not one in particular- just an amalgamation of many: dry, dazzling Algarvian heat.  Sticky sea water and the smell of Nivea on my peeling nose.  Sand absolutely everywhere.  Climbing the steep slope off the beach, the dusty red track warming the soles of my feet.  Avoiding the sharp grasses and broken shells that can really hurt if you tread on them.  You usually do because by the end of the afternoon your eyes are blurry with sun glare and tiredness.  Arms full of damp towels and beaten up paperback books and buckets and dirty picnic plates.  Piling into the car, leaning against the window to catch the heavy, scented air, and beginning to think happily about the chicken sizzling on the charcoal under the rubber tree later in the evening.

Thank you Lord for my past.  And my present.  You are good and your love endures forever.

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