6 minutes

Amidst provisional tax and searching for hairbands and cutting oranges and pushing a button to make the alarm stop beeping after load shedding, it is easy to forget how lucky we are to live where we do. This evening I drove 6 minutes to an elopement on Signal Hill. The couple travelled from Nashville, Tennessee (I just wanted to write that in here because I love country music and I love the word Tennessee – with all those double letters). But, also, of course, because it’s a really long way away. A lot more than 6 minutes.

On my way home, I pulled Blanche off the road (that’s our Polo) and took this photograph on my phone. I was home in time to put Kit down.

I mentioned before that as a family we’re thinking a lot about what kind of life we want to lead and that includes what kind of home we want to live in and where. You see, we’re after some lawn. Lawn is hard to come by in these parts (or rather, it’s pricey). So we decide that it’s time – it’s time to move to the burbs. And then Summer happens. And we undecide.

We are undecided.

(For transparency, not all weeks center around Beta beach and Camps Bay Tidal pool and walks near the mountain. Some weeks (like this one) are doozies. To be honest, even the good weeks are hard in their own ways. Hard but exquisitely beautiful – the kind of beauty that gives me a strong sense of my older self looking back on this time in my life with deep nostalgia.)