August 22, 2012

My dearest,

We wake up with our hands holding each other. It’s early and a public holiday, but you have to head into the office to check on a job. I smack you on your buttocks, “Get up, lazybones!” You murmur, you grumble, but you get out of bed.

The water is hot. We soap each other’s back while we shower, trading insults and lame puns.

You drive to your office and I head for a late breakfast with my friend. She wisely chooses a quieter café instead of the busy one next door, the one with a line halfway round the block. French toast for her, an omelette with sautéed mushrooms and cheese for me. Time passes swiftly when we are deep in good conversation.

Then we walk to another café for more coffee. She has to go but I bump into more friends. More coffee. Trading tips about Hong Kong and Macau (where does one get the best roast goose on the island?), promises to exercise at the gym together. Then they leave and I’m ordering a third caffè latte, wondering if this counts as an addiction.

You arrive, with another friend in tow. We have a late lunch, something Chinese. Roast duck, not goose, but equally good. Then macarons and tea. Then we head home to rest before dinner (it’s all about food, surely that’s obvious by now?) and the rain is too enticing so …

You are reading a book on the sofa. Our friend is napping on the other couch. I walk to the balcony, the garden and the trees and the rain outside and I take it all in, this beautiful world we live in.

Yours, ever and always.