Sunday silence



Sunday morning, not a cloud in the sky.

There’s a peacefulness in the air that I’ve not felt in a while. With only a gentle breeze wafting through the branches, the city is unusually quiet.

I am alone but for the bees buzzing from one purple Chive flower to the next.

Taking a sip of my freshly brewed coffee, I suddenly notice patches of damp stone on the ground. It must have rained heavily last night. Somewhere lost in a dream, I was oblivious to the cool downpour.

As I look up at the giant tree at the bottom of the garden, I smile at last month’s discovery of Parakeets. Lime green with long elegant tails, I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. They seemed strangely out of place. My mind jumps quickly to São Paulo – the crazy, giant city that I called home for a short while.

The sun on my neck feels warm and comforting. The smell of honeysuckle is delicious.

Then there’s a loud bang of a door slamming open. A child cries and a mother shouts. A plane’s engines whir overhead and a dog barks in the distance.

My moment of peace vanishes in an instant.

But as the city slowly comes to life all around me, and a butterfly flutters softly past my face, I can’t help but feel that everything is exactly as it should be.

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