20/52 Afternoon

Cagliari

The afternoons are long, especially when you don’t sleep or when there is a bus strike or when it’s too windy/hot/grey outside and we are both tired of everything and ourselves.

But sometimes, especially when we are busy in the yellow tiled kitchen with the big red fridge, they are not long enough, made up of moments to remember for ever. 

Like the afternoon last week when we podded peas, 101 of them ( I know, I counted).



I popped them out of their shells and you moved them, one by one or two by two or occasionally five by five, from the heap on the table to the bowl, talking all the while, 



deciding that the big ones were papas, the medium ones mamas and the small ones boys and girls like you, while the tiny ones were babies, like the one in mama’s tummy that will come when you are three. 



We lined up a family of four for a photo but then you said 

‘I don’t like peas in lines, I like them in the middle of all the others’

And you put them back in the bowl, in amongst their bigger family, where they should be. 

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