Quintessentially Me.

“I think I’ll start with the lemon”, she said, seemingly absent minded.
“I’d go for the artichoke”, I replied.
“What?”, Eliza gave me a puzzled look. She had clearly just returned from another dimension where not making sense was in the eye of the beholder.
“Nothing”, I replied with a grin. “I was joking. What about the lemon?”
“I’m not sure…”, she hesitated. “I just thought it would make a good beginning.”
I had no idea what she was talking about but I had errands to run so I didn’t insist. I kissed my little sister goodbye and stepped outside. It was a glorious day full of sunshine and opportunity and though the trees had already started to display shades of ocre and rust, it seemed as if summer had taken a detour and briefly returned for a stolen kiss.

I loved visiting my sister in her studio. Time there moved at a different pace, which was strangely welcoming. Like a kind host in a fragrant room with creaking floorboards that suggest a pitter-patter of generations of feet. Eliza had always been the creative one and moved in spaces unknown to me. As children we would make up stories and play parts in a make-believe world, triggered by anything that inspired us. We designed our stages and directed our plays and on rare occasions we would allow for other actors to enter the set but none of them made an impact – they all lacked sparkle and zest.

I wouldn’t say my inner world was less vivid than Eliza’s but I had no interest in exploring it the way she did. I suppose that’s what artists do: they step into the dark and come out in colours or dive into a topic and translate it into sensual perception. They see or hear something that moves them to such an extent, that they let it pass through them and recreate it in their own way. Maybe we all do that in more or less conspicuous ways and while some relax into the process, others might laugh it off in a self-conscious attempt to not seem foolish. I wasn’t sure really, where that left me but I was happy to take part in Eliza’s world and grateful I didn’t have to go through all those processes myself. I could step outside into a glorious day and feel the breeze on my skin while Eliza moved through the unknown, contemplating a lemon. But I also knew that once this lemon had fallen into place, her sense of joy and fulfillment, however brief, would be infinite.

It struck me how happy it made me to know that Eliza’s world, however complex it could be, was this simple at the same time. How one observation could take her down a rabbit hole but equally make her take to the skies.

“I think I’ll start with the lemon”, I said to myself and strolled towards the evening light.