Friday, March 27, 2015

writing letters to friends

Hello there, friend,

At the end of the street where I used to live, there was a eucalyptus tree on the corner. I would walk by it almost every day, close enough that its scent was all I could breathe, and I'd wonder if the neighbors would mind if I cut a bit down to take into my house. But I never did.

Today I headed to the store with the purpose of buying myself flowers. Last night was awful in many ways, and today called for gentleness and self care. I was hoping to find ranunculus or something equally beautiful and exotic, but it was mostly tulips. As I walked around, searching every nook and cranny of the grocery store floral department, I found big bunches of eucalyptus tucked into a silver bucket. Its fragrance took me back to that neighbor's house, and I knew I had to take it home.

I made one more stop for wine, then home to share a simple lunch with my son. I grabbed a pitcher from the cupboard and filled it with eucalyptus and water. My fingers were thick with the scent and I was reluctant to wash it off, a small reminder that things were really okay.