The light spills out, warm:
a spot in darkness,
a pool of safety
gleaming bright against
the shadow-night world.
Laughter spills through
double-paned glass,
echoes of what
life could have been.
The cold wraps
around me
like a hug.
I breathe,
and then
turn.
When it rains on a July day,
they huddle their shoulders,
hide their children and their faces.
Focused on where they go,
they avoid where they are.
When it rains on a July day,
the air is hot and muggy,
crowding close as a subway stranger.
Filling their throats and lungs,
it pushes them to shelter.
When it rains on a July day,
I lift my eyes to the grey skies,
I take deep breaths of clean air.
The birds and I know that
when it rains on a July day,
it rains for me.
This recipe is adapted from other recipes. It is my favorite because it makes a smooth, dense filling with just the right flavor of pumpkin and spice.
So this is another recipe I developed myself, loosely inspired by a layered lemon pudding dessert my mom used to make. You can use any crust recipe you like, but I suggest the nut crust. If you are in the tragic circumstances of possessing a nut allergy, pretzel crust works well, too. Any fresh lemon curd will work, but this microwave version is easy and fast.
I'm not writing this to make a social commentary or anything, which is why it's here and not at my doctrinal blog. Even though I usually try to keep this one upbeat and light. I just needed to write out all the thoughts going through my mind, and this is the best place for me to write it outside of my handwritten journal (and it doesn't allow going back and refining ideas.) I've been going over the same problems until my brain is exhausted. Even with the "break from dating" which has been going on for two or three years, now, I still can't seem to give myself a break. Maybe if I quantify it all, I'll be able to let it go.
