Elizabeth Estate (Home)

In the mornings, the air smells of coffee and cocoa butter, mothers wipe away tears from crying cheeks and secretly slip strawberry lollipops into coat pockets; Elizabeth Estate awakes, swaying to the rhythms of each of her five hundred and twenty residents (seven hundred if you count the jobless uncles sleeping on the sofas and the long lost friends who were only supposed to stay for a few days). At midday, the kitchens are steamy from cooking, and the air is thick with the mingling scents of curried vegetables, jerked fish, and stuffed vine leaves. Golden sunlight trickles, rain falls; and the grey-white walls of the estate sparkle with false hope. At sundown, fathers trudge home from work with slumped shoulders, empty bellies and emptier hearts; and night workers awake. By dusk, the air turns prickly-cold, the last freight train rumbles on the rail track, causing the crescent-shaped block to vibrate, and Elizabeth Estate lets out a soft exhale.