Go on a tour of your own town. Yes, it’s possible! One does not need to fork out a fortune to find beauty. It is often on one’s doorstep. In this case, it is slap-bang in the middle of Melkbosstrand, next to the parking lot, tucked in behind Storar’s.
I have seen the house so often that I’ve stopped seeing it. And then something about it hit me between the eyes today. It was the quality of light on this unseasonably hot Easter Sunday that made the house glow pearlescent white against the turquoise sky. The house, that to me, looks like a Karoo huisie, and looks to be in perfect condition from outside, looked picture pretty.
And so I sat down and looked at it; and at the way its veranda casts its own shadows bathing the stoep in seriousness and coolness, adding tonal depth to the whiteness of the walls. I was not alone in the parking lot. A few stragglers sat about talking about life, because what else does one talk about! The birds chirruped in the tall old palm tree; a single Twin Tower.
It was around noon, and the church service had finished. But that Sunday churchy feeling hung in the air. It was somnolent and peaceful, and even perfect. It was a holiday from reality in that parking lot next to the old white house that glowed and glowed.