I believe I have mentioned before how wonderful Sunday mornings in Samoa can be. If we can make it through all the hub-bub of our neighbors preparing for and leaving for church, we are golden. Two hours of serene silence. With the entire country at church, even the traffic noise dims to nothing.
This morning Cale and I were sitting in the living room. Me with tea and a magazine, he with coffee and a book. Music played softly from the iPod. Outside the sound of tires on gravel could be heard. Car doors slammed. And then the music blared from the neighbors' house at top volume. A choir and keyboards praised God so loudly we could no longer hear Rodrigo y Gabriela playing from the speakers only three feet away. I raise my eyes from my magazine to Cale.
"105," he says.
"Days?" I ask.
"Yep. 105 days left."