Thirty-One: Weeks Twenty-Seven & Twenty-Eight
Days one hundred and eighty-three through one hundred and ninety-six
Welcome back to Thirty-One, the project where I attempt to write something every day for a year. If you missed any previous issues, you can find them here.
Day One Hundred and Eighty-Three (October 26th) I’ve been thinking a lot about vultures after seeing so many last weekend. They’re so misunderstood. They don’t bring death; they clean it. These birds aren’t omens. They’re the part of nature we don’t want to look at. They’re the part of ourselves we don’t want to see. Day One Hundred and Eighty-Four (October 27th) To name something is to give it life. How sweet to carry creation on the tip of your tongue. Day One Hundred and Eighty-Five (October 28th) Do these words even matter? Will anything I say convince you that I’m human? Or are you so thirsty for my blood that all your thoughts of me are tinged with red? Day One Hundred and Eighty-Six (October 29th) Blue sky hides behind my eyes. Can you see it? Or are the clouds too great? Wait for them to change shape and reveal the hope that has always been there. Day One Hundred and Eighty-Seven (October 30th) I oscillate between hope and hate, my fate intertwined with the strength of my people. We will not let our spilled blood harden our hearts. We will breathe life back into the land once again. Day One Hundred and Eighty-Eight (October 31st) My fan is still clicking, but it isn’t constant. When it stops, I enjoy a brief moment of peace with the usual white noise of my bedroom. The relief doesn’t last long, usually less than a minute. I’ve tinkered with the fan a bit, but nothing’s helped so far. The investigation continues. Day One Hundred and Eighty-Nine (November 1st) Two small birds have been visiting my yard, foraging under the oak tree out front. I see them every time I go out to get the mail. They don’t seem bothered by my presence, so I usually stand in the driveway and watch them for a bit. They hop around in the grass and sing to each other. For a few minutes each day, those birds become my whole world. Their joy makes even the junk mail feel like a gift. Day One Hundred and Ninety (November 2nd) Every time I go online, I see a new person who I thought was a friend turn out to be an antisemite. I feel so alone right now. The masks are slipping, and what’s beneath is ugly and vile. We’ve buried 1,400. The least you can do is bury your hate. Day One Hundred and Ninety-One (November 3rd) I dream of becoming bioluminescent. How beautiful it is to be my own light in the darkness. How powerful it is to guide others home. Day One Hundred and Ninety-Two (November 4th) My windows have been open for three days now. The neighborhood feels closer, almost like it’s inside the house. Breeze and birdsong float to me effortlessly. The days are nearly too warm for it, but the nights are perfect. In that moment, just before I fall asleep, I can feel the dark reach in and cradle me toward my dreams. Day One Hundred and Ninety-Three (November 5th) Sunflower seeds in the dead of night sit on my tongue like salty stars of delight Day One Hundred and Ninety-Four (November 6th) When you burn your hand your body learns a language that speaks without words Day One Hundred and Ninety-Five (November 7th) I tried a new orange marmalade this morning. The store was out of my usual brand. This other marmalade existed in a quaint twelve-sided jar adorned with an old-fashioned family logo. The label boasted about the brand’s establishment in 1797 and its use of Seville oranges. They were two-for-one. I was sold. But it was all a lie. The marmalade was too bitter. I cringed at the affront to my tongue. What a disappointment. I will attempt to eat the rest of it without developing a bitter heart as well. Day One Hundred and Ninety-Six (November 8th) Meditating on a flame is like watching time personified in the ever-expanding pool of melting wax. Bees came from the air to create it, weaving it from the flowers of their travels. It returns to the air as smoke, although the buzz of wings remains in my heart.
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