Happy days

You know how sometimes you feel that every song you hear is speaking directly to you? Well, that's how I felt - ridiculed by every single tune in the 15 000- strong database of the high end hi fi- system we have in the villa (oh, do tune in for tomorrow's blog about how I hear voices, how the government has tapped the radiators to keep an eye on us and how I was once abducted by the aliens...)

Still, we largely ignored the events of the intervention or the need to reach any kind of a conclusion. Things were...ok. And I was... ok with it. We even hosted another dinner party for The Man's colleague who had just purchased property 20 minutes from us. The evening was another success, confirming that I'd probably be willing to hold on to this dysfunctional excuse of a relationship for that kitchen alone.

The last days of our time together are always marred by sadness; clouded by the swiftly approaching separation. I didn't know what to make of the trip. I didn't know what the future would hold. Then the last day turned our to be another one of those ridiculously perfect days.

We drove along the coast and parked the car somewhere neither one of us remembered. We walked along the beach, barefoot in the sand with the sun in our face. The smell of sea, the warmth of the sun and the scent  of food being cooked on the barbecue wafting from the seaside restaurant filled me with such sadness. I remembered all the numerous times I'd been doing just that, before stopping for a nice lunch in small seafood restaurant tucked away on a beaches of Israel, Tunisia and so many other places. Always alone. I'm through with that. I don't want to be alone anymore.

We sat down for drinks in one of the cafes, our feet covered in sand and our faces glowing from all the sun. I was studying the view; the sea glistening in the sunshine, people walking hand in hand and the thought of having to leave it all behind filled me with such frustration. More so than 3rd degree equasions. Luckily the service was crap, we were flocked by Africans selling counterfeit Casios and a street performer playing accordion so badly it made me laugh- totally ruining my pity party.

We then made our way to a nearby village and settled for a 3-hour lunch in a small restaurant. The food was great, simple, unpretentious and the rosé was sheer happiness in a bottle. We talked, we laughed, we were happy. Rest of the day we spent in bed and were, if possible, even happier. 

All the concerns and uncertainties aside... I knew that it was exactly where I was supposed to be. In  his arms.