Thoughts wrapped in peels
I thought about that a lot too today. My friend Lisa and I talk about how certain activities, like eating, can be so communal. And reading Nabeel's blog confirmed that maybe other people feel that way too. I thought back to my farm days; cold winter afternoons spent indoors playing cards or talking. I remember one particular afternoon where I sat around a table with my friends Christy and Gary enjoying oranges. We ripped back orange peels to expose white underbellies, skins to protect the meaty flesh inside. We would pause in our conversations, just long enough to bite and tear into the sweetest oranges that I have ever tasted. Sticky, satisfying, nectareous juice sprung from the wound, rolling out fat tear drops; the searched for spring.
There was nothing truly spectacular about those oranges. They weren't from some virgin island, never inhabited except for the ancient orange harvesting Floo Floo people; they weren't this miraculously unblemished, beautiful fruit; no, the oranges tasted sweet for a different reason. Maybe it was the fact that it was so cold outside, and as we ate to the core of the fruit, it was still warm and unbitten by the howling winds. Maybe it was because I ate them with friends, in the midst of good conversation and laughter-elements that can make the most bitter day taste better. Maybe it was because I finally had found a place that I considered really and truly home for the first time since leaving my parents' house at 17; it wasn't the orange I was tasting, but rather the fruits of happiness and peace.
It is amazing how often I allow my memory to slide back to that afternoon. At an outdoor fruit market, eyes searching over the pyramid of oranges, longing for that same sweet taste. Hands caressing, rolling over the oranges at the groccery store, trying to find that perfect fruit. Ah, maybe one day again.
Anyway, some things in the news that I wanted to share:BabelFish translator.