bids for connection
part 2 of ♾️
home alone for the evening. this usually means a dinner of trail mix on the couch. but that night I made pasta (because I love it) and ate alone at the table (out of respect for my spine and my upholstery). I bragged about this hot meal to a friend who asked “what did you make” to which I answered “cacio de pepe” to which they said “but that’s so…simple” in a tone that suggested dismay, to which I suggested “what I want is usually so simple” in a tone that suggested resignation. after which they paused and admitted: same.
when my neighbor left sedum on my doorstep. because she knows how much I love her garden, because she knows I want to love my own. she sees how neglected my small yard is. how my time goes, instead, to tending to my children. to me the sedum and her solidarity says: your time will come, let me help your garden grow.
in an unlikely business meeting. while building an idea with some friends, we retreated to the woods to devise our plan. once there, we retreated to the sauna to discuss the division of labor. inside, we got naked before we listed and named each other’s strengths. as we sweat, the wood-fired heat prodded us to praise ourselves in front of others. in the dim, cedar-scented room, we were seen and safe. to me this naked honesty said: whatever you tell me about your secret heart, I’ll believe it without question.
shopping for paint in the hardware store. for paint that will cover drywall but also color in the shades of a big idea, when I noticed that the only empty space among the swatches is ‘Accessible Beige.’ I want to believe it’s because demand is so low for such a desperately sad sounding hue. but with a wan smile the clerk confirms that, in fact, it’s an extremely popular color. I call my friend over to tell this sad beige story. we laugh (on the outside) and (revolt on the inside). our laughter admits and admonishes: beige? I would never. accessible? how dare you. impervious? daily. unreachable? often. unattainable? forever, or why bother at all.
on an early walk through town. on a particularly challenging morning, I saw a man painting a house a hue dangerously close to chartreuse. to the back of his head, I said “I love it” and he must have heard it as sarcasm because he turned and said “I know, I know…it’s bright” so I stopped, pivoted, faced him, made eye contact, and gently stressed to him — “it is. and I love it.” he smiled, just slightly. the intention of my compliment was to say: be as bright as you want to be. in a world full of Accessible Beige, be a green that makes us wonder what you were thinking, be a yellow that makes us feel something.
