The Jar of Creme

That cheque is long overdue, and I haven't worked enough these past weeks to be able to afford a big jar of the organic, natural moisturizer I otherwise use. 

Sunscreen lotion had sufficed all harsh summer. 

It rained last night, a big, bad storm that made me want to go out and open my face to the blasting skies. But adults don't do that. 

The weather is turning and I will need moisturizer. So while out to buy milk this morning I bought the smallest jar of light moisturizer I could find. It is small and fits into my palm, like it was somehow right. 

I opened it this morning after my bath and peeled off the inner cover. I took a smidgen of it and worked it into my legs - I wore shorts today, I have never had a fondness for much clothes, you know. I added another blob onto my arms, darker now after the few weeks in the sun all day everyday in the mountains, the colour of caramel that is just underdone. 

"The unfreckled skin, tinted tea and clotted cream, honey gold, or a rich, brooding coffee." (Sarita Mandanna, Tiger Hills)

I brought my hand up to my nose after I had closed the jar and put it away on the shelf in the bedroom. It smelled like teenhood, when this creme was the luxuriest thing for the skin I could find in my little town. This made me smile.