It is the 38th anniversary of my father’s death. Walking home from the brunch, I leave Alex, my son, at Inman Street. He is heading to his home, which is no longer mine. My (ex) partner has just been honored at the brunch for tireless work as ED of our award winning Public Access Center, for championing free speech, for work as a documentary photographer. Alex and I plan to hook up later to see the Italian Job, and I take a left towards my new place–where he visits me, but does not keep his “stuff.” I bend to see a peony. The outer leaves hold its perfectly rounded inners: the soon to be blossom. A shiver of pleasure shoots through me. What is it about round things, blooming, enfolded, round things, that thrills me so? Is it just perception? Does it trigger some early association with roundness? Why should simply looking at a budding peony give me such joy? You, oh peony, have changed the flavor of the day. From bitter to bittersweet.
Posted by grabiner at June 14, 2003 11:12 AM