Kumquats

"You're livin' my dream life," I said earlier, to a friend who's an immensely talented photographer and spent her day putting those talents to use. We went back and forth several times--the kind of meaningless complimentary chatter that could be put on paper, then shredded and used to fill Easter baskets--before I conceded, "I mean, I'm living my dream life too. I just forget sometimes."

I do. Because real life isn't anyone's dream--to be enjoyed while wrapped in blankets and slipped out of when you've had enough. You scrape your knees and put too many rocks in your backpack sometimes, which is the kind of minor weight and hurt that's enough to distract anyone from how good it is (good: 68 degree days in January, strawberry season, supportive friends in front of you and forever away/bad: ever-present heartbreak).

Anyway, it's January 22. My internet game is the worst it's ever been in my entire life. I would make a New Year's resolution to blog more! or post more pictures! or whatever, whatever, whatever; but I've never been into New Year's resolutions (don't tell me when to set my goals. I'll do it when I want, which is never in the middle of winter), and I'm really not into raising anyone's expectations at the moment. This could be the only blog post of 2015. This could be the only blog post of the foregoing decade. This could just be another draft I never actually post.

But it's a Thursday night and the year is young and so many things in my life are unfamiliar in a way that's becoming routine and I'm here writing on my laptop, so why not/here we are/I'll always come back to this anyway.

I ate so many kumquats I made myself sick last month. "Wow, what are these tiny oranges! They are so sour and great!" I thought to myself one afternoon in early December. And then, perhaps 20 tiny, sour oranges later, there was enough acid in my stomach to make a zillion batteries.

Sometimes I feel all too stripped down. A lot of my life used to hang off my arms or drape over my shoulders or braid itself into my hair, and I didn't realize the weight wasn't supposed to be there until it wasn't. When the edges you thought were yours turn out to be empty air, it's enough to make anyone pause.