The Avocado and Me

My alarm is set for 8:00; I get out of bed at 8:25. The turtle doves outside sound mysteriously like owls. At 8:30, Mom, Abby, and I pile into the Kia Soul and head to Starbucks. I wait for Mom to pull-out, and as I do, I watch the big yellow roses droop in the mid-July heat - they look sleepy. We arrive; Abby and I stay in the car, talking nonsense; Mom returns with a tray; we sip our way home. There was a little boy there, at the Starbucks, with his dad. He was steering a red tricycle; both I and the neighboring prairie dogs thought it was cute. Prairie dog Paige: See that bike? Cute! Prairie dog Patrick: Cute! Cute? Prairie dog Patty: Cute, cute, cute! Prairie dog Paige: Hey look! There's a seagull! In case you were wondering: I li(o)ve nowhere near the sea. Abby's order: Iced Peach Green Tea, unsweetened, with a bacon Gouda sandwich. She always peels the bacon off like some sort of aged scab she wants nothing to do with. Mom's order: Earl Grey tea with 2% m

July 4th, 2020 At the end of Hamilton , Eliza Schuyler, portrayed by Phillipa Soo, looks out into the audience and gasps. There are tears in her eyes. Though the show in its entirety is stunning, it is this moment that solidifies the experience for me. I wonder what Eliza sees when she looks at us. I wonder if that cry is one of pride in how far we've come, or one of horror. We have so much further to go. George Floyd. I can't breathe. Breonna Taylor. Say her name. Mississippi's changing their flag. Reform is on the horizon. But I wonder how Eliza feels. I wonder how Phillipa Soo dissected and pieced her character back together. I suppose I feel similarly; I'm not sure whether to be proud or horrified at my world. I'm not sure if they must exist mutually, those two states of being, or if they have the capacity to work in tandem. I hope it's the latter; that's a much happier way of looking at it. Years ago, on the Fourth of July, my grandparents a