i have no business eating a blood orange in a white shirt, not that any business i may or may not have has ever stopped me before. i have eaten many blood oranges in my life, and it is rare that i do not halt in my tracks to admire them, each time as though walking aimlessly down a familiar wooded path, and then stooping to inspect a rare and beautiful flower.
when i was 22, i spent the spring chasing spring. i had been living with my parents in florida since november, and left in april to drive north, and then west to salt lake city. it was amazing, simply, the way it just kept going. atlanta. then asheville. virginia. philadelphia. the green and blossoms like a singular thing alive, creeping northward alongside my car, an endless arrival.
i felt like a huntress, tracking it. watching it. getting close enough to smell it, taste its dew, see the tousled textures on every petal splaying in the light. and then beckoning it on. escorting it. following it – with a certain religious fervor, like a groupie on tour.
spring surrendered in chicago, gave way to summer with the whoosh of a revolving door. i hardly noticed its absence as i perished in the midwestern heat. it seems there is always something new to feel, though not necessarily different, or better.
it’s winter and i’m reeling myself in – not the time to go down the road of where’s all the adventure?! the thing about anything is you’ll miss it, no doubt. A and i still talk about that sandwich we ate in missoula.
journaling, i find my handwriting too straight – too neat and tidy today and most days to accurately reflect my thoughts. how else might i do it? poster board and paint? i aspire to messiness, but ultimately only like the look of it on other people. like a style of shirt that doesn’t compliment my body type, or a color that doesn’t suit my skin tone. i appreciate it. i want it. knowing, always, it doesn’t want me.
i would say i am open to the mysteries of my future becoming slightly less mysterious. i’ve had this feeling lately, though not for the first time: like i’m about to be blessed with some monumental knowing. it’s nearing, a lantern atop a hill blued with dusk, a light that would find me in any lifetime, should i allow it the space to make home.
so i empty myself out, peel it all back slowly like the skin of my blood orange, opening wide, touching flesh, section by holy, vivid section.
i want to thrash sometimes, break things, only screaming in my dreams – at the mundanity i find there, rather than senseless psychedelia. i am watching warm and cozy medieval cottage library with soft rain sounds on tv. i am the change i wish to see. i follow the love like spring.
Hola , Muy Buenas Reflexiones. Mí Familia Tiene Campos De Naranjos , Muy Cerca De La Ciudad De Valencia ( España ) , Tenemos Varias Variedades Entre Ella La Naranja Sanguínea Y También Limones Sanguíneos. Un Saludo.