A Good Memory

The sun slowly fades behind the mango trees, covering the world in orange and lavender. Water comes running down my face and through my hair causing it to come cascading down my back. The cool clean water I pour over myself is refreshing, a welcome change from the sweat and dust constantly covering me.

The splashing, tumbling water drowns out the world. The sounds of children yelling, of the pump being used, the radio my neighbor is listening to: all become distant background noises. My eyes see nothing; only feel the cool gentle waterfall washing over the lids. My nose stops noticing the stench of the outhouse, instead indulging in the citrus and soap smell of shampoo. Finally I put my glasses back on and wrap myself in a piece of cloth. Looking out into the dusk the moon hangs low. A mere sliver. A small star trailing along below it. And right now it doesn’t matter that I live in Africa, or I don’t speak the language. I don’t care about the children swarming around me or that my roof is ready to fall in.

Right now, I am home and I am clean and there is nothing to worry me till tomorrow.