Our household is in some sort of home stretch, rounding the curve to the straightaway and heading toward the finish line. I wish I could tell you that the hospital is getting ready to open and we’re working our way through the punch list. It’s not.
We’re in the late stages of preparing to move. By tomorrow afternoon, the container with all of Nathalie’s belongings should have been delivered to our new home. It’s a 40-ft container that has been transiting from Switzerland to Senegal since the end of May. When it finally arrives, our household, which this week consists of Paul, Nathalie, Seal, Nathalie’s sister Janette, her nephews Yann and Quentin, Quentin’s girlfriend Pauline et moi (and me), will unpack with help from Paul’s best friend Youssou, and probably his nephew Miguel, cousin Ebou and one or two other of his other pals.
We will marvel at what’s in the container: all the long-lived-without amenities like coffeemakers, cuisinarts, matching knives/forks/spoons, grill, TVs, living room suite, matching sheets and pillowcases…things that you really take for granted until you don’t have them. And let me assure you, we haven’t had them in this rental. It hasn’t been bad here, but it hasn’t been Frette linens and Wedgewood either.
I just asked Nathalie which of her belongings she’s missed the most over the past six months. She replied as I expected: “I don’t even remember what I have.” And then, after a few minutes thought, she yelled down from the second floor: “I’ve missed my big contemporary African painting the most.”
I thought for sure she would have said her stereo or her accordion (yes, Nathalie plays, and plays very well). The cool thing about Nathalie and Paul is that they don’t require stuff to have a home. They have Seal and an abundance of hospitality. And that seems to be what it takes.
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