I'm standing in line in the bedding section of Macy's department store. The woman in front of me glances my way, then darts a second look. Trying, and failing, to be discreet. Adhering to some universal law, she lowers her voice at the same moment the room decides to fall silent, whispering to the man beside her:
She has green hair.
Everyone hears her, including the man, the cashiers, myself, and the two men I am with. A miniature silence passes. After a moment, he replies.
Mazeltov!
Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly ill, I will go to sleep and dream a remedy. It could be that I am having a vitamin deficiency, and will dream of B12 and B6 tinctures, or I will be feeling sore and dream of Valerian root tea, which unbeknownst to me is sitting in my kitchen cupboard.
I've always thought this was magical.
Today, however, I learned I don't have to be asleep to do this. I've been feeling tired, and my side has been hurting. I am having digestive issues, and was told I may be having liver issues as well, due to dehydration, and possibly high toxicity levels.
I went to the store and was instantly drawn to Dandelion root tea. There are books near the back that enumerate the various uses for herbs. I flip through the index, my finger skimming the page, B, C, D-- Dandelion.
Good for aiding in digestive and liver issues.
Scrawled into a wayward notebook, I find the passage:
...every word is scared of it's own shadow, afraid it will be the blemish, the birthmark on otherwise smooth, perfected skin. As if words ever have the luxury of being perfect, their aim much less immaculate in communicating the naked moment.
I look like a lion today. My hair is tangled and between states, an unruly blue mane framing my face.
It looks the way I feel.
I have started packing today, a little, shoveling my mountain of books into labeled cardboard boxes; surprised at how little space they take up that way. Peaks and valleys contour the floor of my bedroom in the form of bulk rate mail, overdue library books, and unwashed laundry. I am making a little space in preparation to iron out the untidy landscape, before folding it away into even more cardboard boxes.
The process will be slow, and I don't mind at all.