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Soap

I have a feeling in my chest right now, which is a blend of melancholy and heartache. The odd thing is that I have the feeling now, in the strangest of locations. I just opened the bathroom cabinet and I can see a packet of soap on the middle shelf, and there it is, my heart aching unbearably, as I look at it, and smell the smell of deodorizing soap.

Where did the soap come from? I got it last night when I took my younger son on an emergency shopping trip to the local all-night supermarket adjoining the petrol station.

Of course, the selection of soap was limited. There were four to choose from, including Imperial Leather, and a pack of four deodorized own brand soaps in a fetching greeny-blue wrapper. My son smelt them all, and selected the deodorized own brand, stating authoritatively "these have the nicest smell".

We then stood in the queue, and as we shuffled past a huge selection of cut flowers, he said "I'm getting Mummy some flowers". I fumbled in my pocket, feeling worried. I'd only grabbed a little change when I left the house, but yes, we had just enough, so we bought the flowers.

That was yesterday. This afternoon both the boys went to sleep the night in a tent in Granny's garden. This is a high adventure, and they were desperate to go.

It's just that now, in the evening, with the boys gone and the house silent, I look at the soap chosen by my son, and feel the deepest pang of sadness, wishing they were in the house. I don't think I would have bought that soap if I were on my own, but because my son likes it best, I do too.