Member-only story
Nuts and Cherries
January 23, 2021
I slept for an hour. Or maybe I didn’t sleep. Before I laid down, I read a love letter I had written to Jeff. It struck me with such a familiar pain. I woke crying. I tried not to sob, so as not to wake my niece in the next room. Finally, I surrendered to the sad and came downstairs.
I’m eating toast and drinking tea. Cinnamon toast. When I was upstairs crying, I thought it might make me feel better. Now that I’m eating, I’ve stopped crying. Now I’m writing.
Today is the anniversary of the day I lost my virginity. I remember, every year. I always remember. I was eighteen; 39 years ago. I used to go to a bar and drink a Pink Squirrel to commemorate. I looked it up. Crème de noyaux, made with apricot and cherry pits, bitter almonds and botanicals, cherry pink from the cochineal, an insect used for dye. Nuts and cherries. I was always alone as I drank, tears welling over memories of a magical time. Tears and smiles.
It’s not him I think of so much, it’s me. Already there were indications of the pain ahead. The sorrow with no basis. I do remember those years as my best years. Still, they were full of the feeling I never felt right anywhere. I felt I was watching other people live, while I watched myself watch others.
Maybe the sad came from knowing it wouldn’t last. So brief, so tender, that time…