He emerged from the old car; he was the embodiment of a life of struggle. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips and he struggled to stand upright as he exited. He leaned resignedly against the passenger side of the car. His hair was pulled into a ponytail, protruding from the back of his hat. It seemed as though doing so cost him all his energy. I wished for a moment that I could gift him some of my energy. I have more than my fair share. I recently learned that he has struggled most of his life with addiction. It shows in his posture and on the crevices of his face.

His wife greeted me warmly. She exchanged quips and humor with me, mostly about her son-in-law needing to reward his wife with a clean apartment while she worked. We both laughed, knowing we were asking for the impossible. I forget that I made her several solar lanterns because she told my neighbor that she loved them. I like to think of things I’ve made adding color and light to a place I’ll never see.

In the background, the patter of the pump exhaling water from the foundation next door, one delayed by constant rains. It’s also the source of a few dozen of my painted rocks. I counted it a blessing that the construction has been delayed, even as I heard the man cursing the battle against the water. The birds chirped wildly and beautifully. Squirrels scampered everywhere, flinging mayhem and birdseed onto every available surface. They are both a curse and an additional dose of nature and beauty. I feel like those squirrels quite often, my energy seemingly boundless.

I have multiple projects going. I’m flittering between them. All are odd and colorful. I drove back to the apartment this morning with a dead tree stuffed into my tiny car. It pressed against me and the gear shift so tightly that I thought I might have to reach home driving purely in reverse. I’m going to breathe life into that dead tree in the way that I can. I chose it from the haphazard pile on which I found the baby shower box last week. When I retrieved the small tree and managed to insert it into the hatch of my car, I leaned against the car and watched and listened to the world awaken around me.

It’s Mothers Day, a day that fills some people with nostalgia and others with remorse or regret. Of things lost, opportunities squandered. All of those missed chances can’t be recalled. We can, however, dedicate ourselves to remembering the good things that every person gifted us. Even if they also left us with memories that are better suited to be locked away in private boxes. Life is not sepia-toned. It’s vibrant and always experienced in the ‘now’ of our consciousness. Memory can be both catalyst and chaos.

I don’t know why the picture rendered so purple, but I love that it did. I’m a terrible photographer but also in love with pictures. Happy accidents are amazing, even if the result of ignorance.

Love, X
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What a beautiful morning it has been already! I got to witness the sky grow brighter and listen to the unseen avalanche of birds as they sang. And I walked back up towards my little apartment. Filled with color and light. I think I outmatched it this morning.

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