Happily single, no clue where I'm gonna live next. Not even what continent. Narrowed it down to five. I'm that glowing warm piece of glass, flexible and determined, unsure if I'm heating or cooling while spinning between a pair of pincers and turning fluorescent.
Being this single is giving me a window into a gorgeous time far ahead when I'll get to put amazing music on amazing speakers one day in a kitchen buzzing with cicadas, and bake leeks and roast peppers for someone I love, brass music in the heavy air like a nostalgic scene in an old movie, the basis of what made what comes next worth everything.
Being this independent is allowing me to open that window into a deeper cut future, when somewhere far away, something won't be fleeting. Fresh commitment will absorb and enable my whole self. Someday, something won't be fleeting. Beautiful but evanescent shadows and reflections are all I see of my colorful life today; flirting with standards and fantasies of a mint, anchored future life - flickering imaginatively like a mirage, or the smile of someone you like as you go to sleep. Meteoric.
And so I'm focused on forming a deep flavorful character in the meantime like caramelizing a pan, careful not to let anything burn, knowing it'll be the base of something vibrant yet abiding, to feed a familia later. And the cathartic pan-cleansing moment will come - when it hits me, this is the great moment, i will know it by smelling a deep roasted color - when I must toss the white wine in the pot-- to unleash a great sizzle and aroma, to cut the caramel, de-glaze the pan, lift and expand the flavor into anything that falls in next.
