"It's still happening. I will tell you when it's over."
One girl to another in front of Mission High School this morning. I like her
refusal to provide a voice-over to whatever is in the middle of happening. I
suspect (or remember) adolescence as perpetually happening or not happening.
Everyone waiting about - on constant alert - to see what might trigger
something. Then the stories.
The big open lavender tinged, thick white blossoms on the tall spare bush on
side of the walk up the hill into Dolores Park.
"Saucer Magnolia," a kind, knowledgeable gardener gives me the name. Yes -
well sort of - the blossoms slowly open like a slender bowl, well, "saucer".
Yet, I would not call the shape a saucer: big petals that fall wide open -
the tip and sides slightly curled up, catching the morning's winter light -
until they eventually sink, falling on to the grass.
Yes, or maybe not, adolescence- or something more full: love and attention
that comes later, the gift, or reward in an older age: slowly budding,
blooming open, only to gradually, or sometimes abruptly, fall away.
Just now a thought, this morning, thinking.
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