It's slippery wet as the skin is peeled off and drops to the ground. I bite right into the lushness and it's like an aquifer. The water gushes and runs down my hands and their arms and the fiber-strings pull apart juicy sweet in between my teeth. A giggle bubbles up and I look at her and smile. Its strong tropic taste is nostalgic of a poisonous fruit, like a root you may have pulled up out of the ground in the Amazon jungle in the middle of nowhere, famished and ravishing its succulent oasis found inside there. It's a little like this for us too, with beans and rice littering most of our days, scattered out over hot, baked-in, tongue-sticking-to-your-mouth humid afternoons.
It smells slightly toxic and pleasantly curative all at once, like a flower, like an infectious weed. They all beg for more, even the tiniest one. "Li-bit, Ma-ma? Li-bit?" We sit around the old woven, tangled hammock under our Sand Plum.
I voraciously gnaw at it until there isn't much left and can't stop greedily suckling in the profane lush that was hiding under all that green skin. I only now realize how undernourished I was, how thirsty. The more I bite and squeeze and pull, the more I want.
The sun's rays call to me, gently pull on my skin like sirens. The little ones, they all run off, leave me in my ravenous hunger. The fruit is so fertile with life, and I suck it dry, a crescent all used up.
My sundress caves into the valley of me as I walk and I think blissfully of Husband returning in a few hours, how I'll take him into my arms and love him.
The little one comes back and wants the last couple bites. I hand it over and she wanders the yard, grinding at the core of the fruit for the last of it's yield, slurping what goodness is left to be had. I tip a cup over her hands and wash all the sticky off her hands and arms. She looks at me with big eyes and gallops off.
I lay on the lawn chair writing, with the sun on my back until the shadows creep over and I've drank in enough deep breaths and it's time to go inside.
The afternoon is meted out in slices of fruit pared and placed in tiny, chubby hands waiting, and their small clothes folded in neat stacks side by side on the couch.
I call out to them, "I love you, all of you, my sweet children." They don't say anything, but I know they hear it.
In the space of this time, last drops of sunlight filtering in, it seems the day could last forever and the stacks of clothes beckon me to put them away.
212 from Nacole Simmons on Vimeo.
Gratitude: {1119-1135} warm days :: sweet fruit :: watching my girls swim at practice :: the chlorine, the restful sound of splashing :: having a sweet little friend of Ivy's overnight :: cutting her hair and how adorable it turned out :: having her brothers stay to play :: seven kids in a house with just me :: going to see a civil war re-enactment :: assorted doughnuts :: working outside in my flowerbeds--the first time I've had this much energy in a long time :: a beautiful Memorial day celebration :: grilling out and time with family :: my grandmother's hands making food in my kitchen :: Pina Coladas :: a spontaneous trip to town to get school review books for the girls
{This post shared with Ann, Laura, Jen, Jennifer for #TellHisStory, Imperfect Prose, the EO and Michelle}
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***Dear readers, this will be the last Concrete Words post that I will write for this summer. My husband and I have decided to send the girls back to public school this fall, so that I can rest and recover from chronic illness, and this Mama has a ton to do to get them ready for a test in July. I will have a couple of guest writers to host--the sweet Ashley Larkin has agreed to host it here at sixinthesticks on June 10th, and the ever-dedicated to Concrete Words Ruth Povey will be taking it on July 1st. I hope you will come back here for that! I have had so much fun with Concrete Words since Amber Haines said sixinthesticks will be it's home for good. I hope those of you who have been with Amber the whole time will be along for this wild, fun ride! I've never had so much fun with writing!! We will hit the ground running again with #concretewords when school begins in August.
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What this link-up is about: We "write out spirit" by practicing writing about the invisible using concrete words. In case you are going "what in the world is a concrete word?!"--this just means (using the prompt to inspire) write out what's around us--concrete words make the senses come alive, gives place. In every story, there is always an above and beneath, a beside, something tucked away, aromas in the air, something calling in the trees or from the street, notes in our pocket, rocks in our shoes, sand between our toes. Go here to see Amber's take on this. It was very helpful to me--I think it will be beneficial for you, too.
A few simple guidelines: 1. Be sure you link up the URL to your Concrete Words
post and not just your blog home page URL.
2. Put a link to this post on your blog so that others
can find their way back here.
3. Try to visit one or two others and encourage their efforts
4. Please write along with us, using concrete words--
Please no entries with how-to's, advertising, or
sponsored posts
5. We connect on twitter with the hashtag #concretewords--
please share so others can join!
Today's prompt is the Afternoon.
The prompt for June 10th is the Morning .{I'll highlight a beautiful post from this link-up on Friday (and announce it on social media), so come back here to see whose post is highlighted and encourage them!}
Guess what didn't get done when the internet was off here all weekend? A highlighted Concrete Words post! My choice is:
Ruth Povey at learning {one day at a time}--The Cup
and Kelli Woodford, our guest writer last week, chose:
Karin Deaver at Come Along the Way--The Cup
Can y'all give Ruth and Karin some lovin' and share their posts? Be sure to connect with the hashtag #concretewords!
Now let's have fun with concrete words!
