Tangerines (and tupperware)
Some days our friendship is a tangerine
Ripe with laughter, wittily sour
Some days our friendship is a faded rose
With its musty scent of outgrown youth
Some days our friendship is a worn cotton cloth
Soothing fevers, binding wounds
Some days our friendship is a stalled car
Aching shoulders haul through the intersection
Some days our friendship is a word sung well
Summoning soul-dancing goosebumps
Some days our friendship is a pair of pennies
Almost forgotten but for a faint chime
And truly I cherish it as a coin just as much as a song
A wrecked car just as much as a fabric scrap
A boutonnière as much as a tangerine
For each has their place
And to do otherwise would be to leave fruit molding on the shelf
While eating dusty petals.
We two, we understand this
And so our friendship is the most tenacious of wildfowers.
I say “we two” but am thinking of several people at once, folks who have hauled my sorry crumpled fender through more than I can recall and whose presence makes me happier than sushi (though the best, of course, is sharing sushi with these lovely souls). In addition to my beloved oldies-but-goodies I have been so fortunate this past year to find more and more kindred spirits, and I feel encircled now by people both local and far-flung who together form the village I once longed for, a village I am proud to call home.
A village that gifted us a bevy of meals for weeks after Cria’s birth! And a village, therefore, to whom I promise we will return jars, tupperwares, and casserole dishes one day soon… (Seriously! They are all clean and waiting for my scattered brain to remember to deliver them when next we meet.)
Here are the ones vacationing atop our fridge: