Vespers in gloaming light

A bowl of lemons

I am frantic about Target. I go searching for the perfect accents for the apartment and come up empty handed against my bank account. I am looking for the big things too, rugs and curtain rods, bed side tables and mirrors and a bed frame. You know, big things and little things. And of course I want to pay as little as possible. 2 dollars here, 15 there. Why are rugs 300 dollars? Curtains are insane. What a joke. A riot. I am crying against my Pinterest page. It all looks so simple but, rats! It is not easy at all to make a house a home. (Except that what is in the house is not what makes it a home at all, it really is the person or people you share it with. And he’s pretty great so who is complaining.

No one. Well me, because I want beautiful rugs. But otherwise. No complaints. Oh, and curtains. Oh and a bedroom set.

Drat, here we go again.

And yet…on the dining room table, given to John by his brother Brendan, sits a silver tray that I bought last week for 3 dollars at Goodwill and on it sits the most glorious crystal bowl found in a second hand store in Delaware. Cut into the glass is a design of flowers and fruit and lines swirling. It catches the sunlight, the candle light, the normal overhead light. It twinkles back at me from across the room. I love it, I’ve loved it since I bought it. It’s been in storage above my closet, packed carefully with other beloved but breakable things and left. I got it out two weeks ago. Because I had a table to sit it on.

And yesterday I filled it with lemons. Bright, shiny, round yellow lemons. Circular sunlight, promise of summer, hope of better things. Better things are here, right in the bowl. Right here, right now.

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