As Daydreams Draw Flame

Monday, Monday. The day I plan my work week and the time that nostalgia seeps wistfully into my thoughts. Pushing aside the demands of the day and the week, I treat myself to a visit to a far away land, fun memories and sunshine.

Yesterday at church, we caught up with our friends, Morrie and Em, radiating sunshine from their Mexican bronzed faces. I longed for sunshine, beach sand, the taste of the sea salt on my lips and its sting in my eyes. I longed to plunge under a wave headed resolutely for the shore.

I longed for cloudless blue skies and the roar of the ocean in my ears. I longed for the squelch of my feet into wet sand as waves frolic at my ankles and retreat. Frolic and retreat. And the excitement of a rogue wave which splashes all the way up our legs and wets our shorts. Fun! We laugh, we smile and we walk on - M, mom and me.

This morning, I escape to the verandah of the house my parents rented on the Natal Coast, where we drank our morning cup of tea, ate breakfast, sipped beer shandies, watched the waves below and the Vervet monkeys in the garden. I hear my brother's voice as we discuss the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins and he reads his favourite poem, #34, "As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame ..."

I escape to the kitchen table, where as sous-chefs, our work done, we sip red wine while master chef Mark orchestrates the ingredients in the pot on the stove. We sip companionably and talk at length. I watch the geckos catch bugs attracted to the light. Their suctioned feet are steady and sure against the window. Their bellies: white and flat against the pane of glass.

My memory catches fire. My daydreams draw flame.

The chime of Oma's clock in the dining room, a rogue wave, splashes me awake. The beaches walked, the poetry discussed, the books read, the dinners cooked and the night-time geckos hastily recede. Monday, Monday.