I was certain it would be obliterating, lavender dripping in droves from my graduation gown hem - how it would feel to walk in borrowed finery and let adolescence drip off, just like that --
"You know, I didn't ever really get that orange peel thing"
"Huh?"
"You know, where you peel it and it spells out your husband's name?"
"I just hate oranges."
My fingers are throbbing with octave twinges and my shin is bruised. I'm gaining a complacent kind of physical awareness, of the subtle greens in the veins under the skin of my hands and the calluses of the Korean aesthetician painting my toenails black. There are a whole lot of kind people in the world, actually, and I'm over here vibrating and appreciating them from a safe distance --
I guess the real question is what are we supposed to give the next generation? What're they even gonna think of us?
We tried, man. Some Bach just can't be played on a 15.5-inch.
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