Day 164: Peach

I didn’t take a photo. I was too entranced by watching my son eat a peach. The way he ferociously yet gently bit into the bulging sweet fruit. Sticky juice would run down his hand, down his forearm, he’d smear it across his face. The sweetness of a summer peach, divine. A few minutes in, he chomped down and heard a loud thud; he’d hit the seed. What was that he asked? The seed, I said. Where is it? he asked. The fruit still coarsed over the seed like a muscle. He couldn’t find it, not at first.

I think this was the first time I’d watched him eat a peach and I could tell the taste and experience for him was pure wonder.

Day 163: Dead Raccoon Art

This afternoon, I asked Bennett what he was drawing. He said he was drawing a “dead raccoon” like the one we saw not too long back, in the road. He became irked and concerned when we saw it, asking over and over, “What happened?” I told him the raccoon didn’t look both ways, and he was gone, maybe raccoon heaven. This afternoon when I asked him why he was drawing the animal, he solemnly said, “because he didn’t look both ways.” His neighbor friend, Anslee, wrote the art’s intended message: “look both ways – Bennett and Anslee” (Don’t you love when art becomes how we convey our feelings, our messages? I’ve witnessed so much power to that this past week, and it’s deep into the three-year-old too. Art matters.)

Day 157: The World Wishing Breonna Taylor a Happy Birthday

Too many countless Black people have lost their lives to police brutality. I only wish Breonna and every other Black American who died at the wrong hands, too soon, for no reason, could still be here. Finding wonder in small moments of the world wishing Breonna Taylor a happy birthday. Recognizing her. Seeing her. Saying her name.

(photo source, IG, @teyanataylor)