I have shed everything off my skin save my bra and a hair tie, keeping my thick curly hair up, tresses frame my face like grapevines. All I can think about are strawberries, strawberries bursting like Rosarch, bursting, bursting like Beethoven rifts. The shower fills the bathroom with steam. I’ve been so sick these past few days, I just want to evaporate. I’m suddenly dehydrated. I stick my fingers into my mouth after cupping water from the shower head. Do you ever do that? You’re not even thinking, your body just naturally goes for what it needs to survive.
I’m trying to tell myself to keep up my two jobs, but I loathe the restaurant. Last week, I had to pay out of pocket 25 bucks and i came home with nothing, because someone dined and dashed. The Mexican manager stares at my lips when I tell him I made a mistake. A black woman I wasn’t even waiting on demanded I fix her son’s shrimp because he ordered it sauteed, and it wasn’t sauteed good enough. She continued to harass me the entire time she sat there. Harping me for refills, and then asking for a manager. I know I’m supposed to go to work, but I can’t bring myself to go, now that I have a job where I am not taken advantage of.
To keep my mind off of the sickness, i sink into a hot bath, and think of strawberries. First it was roses. Red things. things that grow. passionate things. And then I remembered that version of “Let it Be” from Across the Universe. When i feel oppressed at the restaurant, I’m known to start singing. Maybe it’s Paramore’s “Last Hope” or singing my favorite Nahko verses. I sang to the tea urns “when i find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”
And the kids that called themselves hipsters had no idea that I was referencing the Beatles.
This next crop top will be juicy. Something I could squeal and sink my teeth into. I closed my eyes, and rows of strawberries came into view. I briefly thought about this male pharmacist crochet artist, who specializes in tapestry crochet. The other day, my boyfriend said something derogatory which I won’t mention here (sorry) about males who crochet. I didn’t talk to him until he apologized. And then, the next day, I discovered this artist, completely by accident, because someone shared it with me.
Check out his facebook page and youtube channel. I love what he says about crochet not just being about patience, but about obsession and passion.
I didn’t know that I was diving into my first tapestry crochet project when I looked for patterns for strawberries. It was very satisfying to add this new skill to my crochet techniques.