Dear Diary,
I pulled up to the house in the company car, the driver dropping me off right at the front gate. Exhausted from the drive, I stepped out at a leisurely pace, grabbed my suitcase, thanked the driver and, with a sigh, muttered to myself, The welcome ceremony is about to begin.
My wife, Poppy, emerged in a flowing summer dress that seemed to have been stitched for the very month of July. She always picks her outfits to match the calendar, and today the colours sang in time with the blooming garden outside.
Running a hand through the silk cascade of her hair, she quickened her stride, flashed me a gracious smile and said, John, weve been waiting forever guess what? Ive found a brilliant landscape designer, his schedule is packed but I managed to get him on board.
I wanted to ask, How much? but remembered the unwritten rule of the welcome ceremony a kiss first. So I leaned in, pressed my lips to hers and whispered, Poppy, you look radiant, while looping my arm around her slender waist. Ive missed you.
She leaned into me, her voice soft, Ive missed you too, and for a moment the garden designer slipped from our thoughts.
Is Natalie home? I asked, referring to our neighbours daughter.
Yes, shes at her friends next door the Dolby familys girl, she replied.
Then its just us, I said, feeling the longing surge through me. I hurried to the shower, then dragged Poppy up to the bedroom.
She continued, I also found a boutique I love. Ive already bought something for you a dress thats absolutely stunning.
I chuckled, Do we have to wear dresses? You could go out in nothing at all and Id still think youre beautiful.
Later, after Id dressed, she nudged me, John, Ive spent ages updating my wardrobe, and you havent even looked at it yet.
I replied, Ill have a look later, and slipped into my shoes, hoping wed have something to eat without resorting to a night out at a restaurant.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Allen, has prepared a proper dinner, Poppy announced.
I smiled at the thought of Mrs. Allens efficiency. And Ive brought in the right people to spruce up our home, so itll be as fine as the Dolbys estate. The new furniture is all my doing, isnt it?
The old set hasnt even had time to wear out, I mused.
What about the curtains? Poppy asked, admiring the colour match. You see how they complement everything?
I appreciate it all, and I never shy from covering the costs, I began, but stopped short so as not to offend.
John, I need to dash to the salon! she exclaimed, a hint of panic in her voice.
Whats the hurry? I asked.
Its a topclass salon, I booked a month ago. I cant be late. Dont worry, my friend Natalie will join me soon she asked me to bring her along.
Bring her where? I inquired.
To the salon, of course, she replied.
Isnt it early for her to be in salons? I wondered.
Let the girl get used to looking after herself, she said, flipping her light hair dramatically.
I ate my lunch alone, waiting for Natalies arrival. When she finally burst through the doorway, she shouted, Dad! and clung to me, the welcome ceremony continuing unabated.
Wheres Mum? I asked.
Shes at the salon, remember? she replied, eyes bright.
Ah, right. She left to get a manicure. I asked her to take me along, I said, remembering.
Your nails are perfect, Natalie, I praised.
She rolled her eyes, Dad, thats not fashionable any more.
I guessed shed had her polish done three days ago, but a new trend had swooped in and she was now desperate for a change.
Dad, Ive been reading a book, she said.
And when do you find the time? You work all the time
On the road, in the breaks, I answered. Maybe you should read something too.
She laughed, I read every day, different things.
I summed up, Fashion, makeup, all that fluff
She protested, Im just a girl
I softened, Girl, girl come here, I said, planting a kiss on her forehead, I love you anyway.
In the evening, Poppy returned, twirling as if on a stage, and asked, What do you think?
I tried to pinpoint what had changed, and to avoid a faux pas answered, Brilliant! Youre dazzling.
By nightfall I was weary, despite having been home only a day.
John, I forgot to tell you, Aunt Marion called; she was worried about you, Poppy mentioned.
Ah, Auntie Ill give her a ring tomorrow, I replied.
Will you be going to see her? she asked.
Why going? Well all go together, I said.
She scoffed, Whats there to do in that village?
Its not a village, its a small market town. About four hours by car.
I see no difference, I responded, already drifting to sleep. Its a pity, I muttered, Ill have to travel alone.
Ive never been fond of long trips to visit relatives, yet I couldnt neglect Aunt Marion, who, at seventy, is as warm as a summer afternoon and always ready for a chat. Shes practically a second mother to me.
I drove my own car to her town, rolled down the windows and let the headwind lift my spirits.
Aunt Marion! Youve finally made it? she exclaimed, her smile as bright as ever. No need for any ceremony with me, love.
I apologized, Sorry I havent visited in a year. Business has kept me away.
She teased, You restless soul, and ruffled my hair, despite being a head shorter than me.
She ushered me inside, Sit down, John, Ill feed you.
I felt like a child again, being fed by a caring aunt. The table filled with simple, homecooked fare.
Auntie, youre not used to city food, are you? I asked.
She laughed, Ive got everything I need, thank you.
Im sorry, but you deserve a treat, I insisted, bringing a small parcel of biscuits from the city.
She declined politely, Ive got enough, John.
We chatted about my travels across the UK, the chilly north and the balmy south. I joked, Its hot now, isnt it?
She shook her head, You come, you go, never stay.
I sated my appetite, took her hand and kissed her soft, chubby fingers. Thanks, Aunt Marion, I whispered, the nickname I always use for her.
She offered me a glass of homemade red currant cordial. Would you like some?
Of course, your cordial is like liquid sunshine, it chases fatigue away, I replied.
She sighed, I worry about you, John. Youre a family man but youre rarely home it must be hard.
I savoured the drink, Hard? No, its easy. The farther from my wife, the lighter I feel.
She shivered at my words. Why would you say that? Why stay apart?
I quickly reassured her, Dont be alarmed, Auntie. This cordial is unlike any Ive tasted before.
She explained, Its made from the berries in my garden so tell me, why stay away?
I smirked, If I stayed close, Id have smothered her by now.
What? she gasped.
From dawn till dusk and through the night, the conversation never ends: which salon, which boutique, which colour, which stylist every day the same. So distance suits me better. I come, I spend, I give money, I leave. Im content.
She asked, And what about Natalie?
I waved my hand, Shes just like Poppy. Same interests. Three years ago I gave her a home library, chose the books myself, now they sit unread. I prefer paper, but digital is handy on the road. I tried to get Poppy and Natalie interested, no luck. Theyll spend hours on their phones hunting new nail technicians and gossiping.
Aunt Marion frowned, I never thought youd be so
I cut her off, No, Im not changing anything. I chose my wife. I wanted beautiful, I got it. And I love her, even with all the fuss about interiors, guests and salons.
She pressed, And Natalie?
I replied, Shell be just fine. As pretty as her mother. Shell marry a decent fellow, perhaps a man like me, and live in the chocolate.
She asked, Will you be off again soon?
Yes, in a month for about two weeks. It wont bother me. Work is my rest, I said.
That evening I gathered my things, slipped a few notes of cash onto the kitchen table, and left a jar of redcurrant jam as a parting gift. I kissed Aunt Marion once more and headed back to the road.
Aunt Marion is the only person Ive ever confessed that I enjoy my business trips, and that life suits me just fine just like my wife Poppy. Ive learned that a man can love his partner, tolerate the endless parade of trends, and still be content with his own rhythm.
Lesson learned: contentment isnt found in constant proximity; its found in knowing what truly makes you happy and accepting it.
