Thursday, July 23, 2009


Somewhere deep inside me, under the gray hair and the age spots and weird whiskers, a single cell remembers what it's like to feel attractive. When I ride, that cell arches its back into the breeze and floats free, testing its power. It considers reproduction then remembers that's never really been an option in this body.

Six pear-shaped tomatoes ripen on a vine planted in a metal trash can on the deck. Before the tomatoes, before the blossoms, before the vine, a seed held their promise.

The cell and the seed, the tomatoes and me: we all reach for the sun and dream of more.


Deb Shucka said...

Reaching and dreaming right along with you.

Amber said...

Like poetry.


Carrie Wilson Link said...


George said...

Of course you feel attractive on the bike. Jerri, go dig up a copy of How I Learned to Ride the Bicycle by Frances Willard.