Home is a person


When he’s away, the days are so long. What to do with all this time?

When he’s here, there’s walks to walk, gardens to tend, and dinners to prepare.

And then, there’s those intimate times, times of connection. Hours occupied.

She goes to the shopping centre, not for the social interaction, just to kill time. She walks slowly through the aisles, spotting goods from any nation you could name.

She will try to remember that ingredient in the Eastern European section in aisle four. What could that be used for? Google that later, if I remember, she thinks.

She spends time in cleaning products. Normally, it’s a quick stroll through here. Grab some laundry liquid, perhaps some dishwashing detergent, and do I need more Gumption? Hey, they still make Ajax, oh the memories. And look here, Sard Wonder Soap now comes in a stick, well they’re you go. She spots a three pack of Pear’s Soap, he loves that, just one of his idiosyncrasies that simultaneously annoys and delights.

He’ll be home soon. He’ll appreciate the soap and the Hungarian pomegranate juice. And she’ll smell his neck and armpits, and she’ll relax. Home is a person, she has worked out.

9 thoughts on “Home is a person

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