Healing

I write this on a little screen that fits between my hands and finish all my sentences using my thumbs, as my trusted laptop has unfortunately bailed on me for the last time. I don’t blame the poor thing, it did send me signals that it was nearly at the end of its tiring journey.

Nonetheless, my laydown in bed was recently interrupted by my mother who has decided to use the water hose to clean the balcony (we are on the groundfloor therefore the ‘balcony’ is a big and integral part of our home). So I agree to help her, knowing water will soon cover the bottom half of my clothes, although that didn’t seem like a bad idea in 45degree-Dubai.

Running the water over everything outside gave me a sense of change; how so? You ask. WellLemmeTellYou

As I slightly covered the open end of the hose with my index finger to harden the stream, I watched as the liquid fall on the particles of sand on the floor, now all stuck together like members of the same family, all being detached and cleared out by the stream.

We hosed down chairs that regained their original brighter colors, and big stands with plastic flower pots on them that looked close to grey, and the thing is you don’t even see their fade until you wash it away, you start noticing the difference, I made them regain their life just by washing away what was on the surface.

I wished then for my worries to be washed away in that same matter, for the colors to show and life to be inhailed deeply. I wished for nothing more than to heal from whatever dust that has held tight to my skin, knowing well that the stream will come from within, and boy will I be ready for the shower.

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