28. And We Met / Part Four
The fifty-meter walk, at the peak of the afternoon heat, from where the bus used to drop me made the house seem like an oasis when I got into it, cool and “needfully” serene. The members of my household had already retreated to their own usual Nirvana, which took the form of siesta, a habit that Iraqis do not relinquish easily, especially at summertime. I went up the stairs to the second storey, and, like a shot, made for the bathroom for a shower that I very much hankered after. The cool refreshing water, which cascaded down my neck and shoulders, had a touch of magic, washing away and releasing the ugly stiffness that had crept into me during the day. I went down on my knees, and blissfully yielded to the water’s tender hand patting and dabbing my back. Light as a feather, I slipped into my bathrobe, wrapped my dripping hair with a towel in the shape of a turban, and made in a bee-line for the bed, without bothering to change into my usual sleeping attire. Feeling relaxed and lazy,