Dangerous Compassions

healing our hands

I was explaining my chili to my friend as I heated up leftovers for her.  I put a little water in the pot and heated the chili on the stove, stirring it with a big metal spoon.  I was loving her. 

The beans were white beans I’d cooked in the crockpot.  I told her how the previous batch risked being slightly too salty, so I salted this batch less, and maybe it wasn’t as good, but it was still really good.

We talked about tvp, the texture.  It was really nice to put in tomato sauce rather than tomatoes–I like tomatoness, that flavor, but not the chunks of tomato.  I really like eschewing old ways when I realize, oh, I was doing that just because it was more convenient or what other people wanted.  I can make it exactly how I want.

I like zines for that also. Pure freedom.

“Is rye ok?” I asked.

“That’s my favorite,” she said.  I made toast for her and me and Ming.  We also made her oatstraw tea, and we had juice.  Two kinds of juice.  We had chocolate.  And I gave her some oatstraw tea to go, and the last of my good magnesium.  And zines, you know.  Someone else’s and the Permaculture for a Pair.

Looking back, I feel I was like an abuelita.  My hair is starting to gray more.  I’m almost an elder–maybe some young people think I am already.

We went to a birthday party for a beloved kid, and walking to our car, we passed this sushi place, and I asked Ming to take my picture with the avocado rolls, my favorite.  Well, asparagus rolls are good too.

I was on ebay for another purpose and saw this magenta dress for seven dollars, bid on it, and won.  The shipping was more than the dress.  It’s a weird synthetic material I don’t favor, but I felt cheerful in that color I haven’t worn much, lately.  And I could wear that dark red lacy thing with it, so I was overjoyed.  And the purple leggings that are comfortable.

Is the red lacy thing even valid clothes?  Maybe it’s lingerie.  Oh well.  It works.

The picture is happy, but I was sad afterward because I would always send my mom a selfie like this, and she would praise it so sweetly–I would take them kind of for her.  A ton of things like that can hurt.  But I send the picture to other people and try to find / create love anew.

This is such a good season.  Ming’s hands get terrible in the winter, so dried out from overwashing them and the cold, and this year, the same happened to my left hand, part of it.  That rough texture.  I have faith the spring will bring healing.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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