When home during summer (in our non-air-conditioned home), I hang out on the cool east side of the house, religiously sweeping this small patio clean and smooth to receive scorched, bare feet, occasionally laying down rugs for the corgi and cats, bringing a sliver of the reading material that piles up in the house, maybe a Peroni (if it’s after 4 o’clock.) The tile was left over from a friend’s DIY project and laid down decades ago, now badly in need of updating. This east side of the house was a no-go zone when we moved in 22 years ago, with massive oleanders pressing against the windows of the house, their girth reaching to the property line, filling this entire area that is now the patio. That Dutch door is where I head every morning with a cup of coffee to
spy on to see what the neighborhood is up to. I defend this space like a cornered badger. Construction materials, rowing machines, bicycles materialize from time to time, but the offending space invader is immediately carried off the premises. And then I sweep again. In another life, I would be the sweeper of libraries, late at night. A little reading, a little sweeping…whisk, whisk.
But I’m rarely at home for the moment. Hope to be back here soon.