metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fig Basil Sorbet I bought some fig-basil body sorbet from Avon, because it was on �special� of course. Oh, my dear God. It smells WONDERFUL. I want to slather it all over me, in my nose and in my hair. I want to wash my feet with it and stuff my pillow with it and close my eyes and inhale it into my soul. I like it. It reminds me of my fig tree. Have I ever written about my fig tree? I wonder. I feel I must have because it was such a big part of my childhood. A big part nobody knows, other than me. We lived in LA and had a fig tree in the back yard. The climate allowed it grow year round. The trunk must have been about 18� in diameter at its base and the whole tree towered over the house at it very most top. We had figs, figs, figs and flies, flies, flies if we did not keep the fruit picked up. But the figs were not what I loved the fig tree for, although its fruit nurtured me and filled me and sustained me. What I loved about the fig tree is that it cradled me. I would spend hours sitting alone in that tree; playing, dreaming, crying, sleeping (!), eating figs, hiding, climbing, dreaming (I did a lot of dreaming). It was my sanctuary when the parents fought, which was often. It was my friend when I was lonely, it knew many of my secrets. The smell of its leaves, fresh and musty; the milky sap when I would bruise or pick its leaves, the sweet honey seedy flesh of its fruit; all these things are part of me. What is really odd, or crazy or � whatever � is that this body cream, oh excuse me, sorbet, brought it all back in a whiff. I was 8 yrs old again, sitting in my tree hiding from the world and eating fig after fig until I couldn�t eat any more. I am there again, on one of those long lonely summer days, when my tree would gently hold me, and understand me and feed me. My fig tree. 10:07 a.m. - 2005-05-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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