When life gives you lemons, girl, you make lemonade. She said matter of factly, as she ground the lemon half in the citrus press. The room filled with the sour tang of lemons bringing her back to childhood. Back to the front porch where the neighbors all gathered to gossip and drink mamas lemonade.
Shaking the image out of her mind she sliced the lemon in wedges. Eating each with delicate nibbles. Scrunched face. Forcing the bitter fruit down. Convincing herself that it was good. Afterall, lemons detoxify the body.
Blinking rapidly to force the present she tossed the rotten lemon in the trash.Drove to the grocery. Bought a whole bag of lemons. At home she sliced each in perfect halves. Squashing them in satisfying bitter juice from the press. Pouring it all in a sparkling pitcher. Adding a bag, or less, of sugar to compliment the bitterness. Served up with cookies and laughter. Traces of memory dancing through her mind.
Always trying to move forward when life gives her. What? Lessons. Opportunity. Choices. Seeing it all. Past, present, future. Unfolded in front of her eyes. Eyes that long to fall on beauty and grace. Smiling faces. Ears that long to hear melodies. Music so sweet gooseflesh appears.
She digressed again. The longing so old it comforts. Like the well worn blanket tossed in the back of the chair. The lemon press in her hand, old and used. Still producing bitter juice sweetened with sugar. Smells of summer, laughter, and sunshine. Cut grass and bird song. Holding memories in the reservoir. Golden liquid full of blessed memories. Sighs and longings. Laughs and tears.
When life gives you…