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The buntings know the North Star by heart, learn to look for it in their first summer of life, storing this knowledge to use years later when they first learn to migrate. How they must have spent hours gazing at the star during those nestling nights, peeking out from under their mother. What shines so strong holds them steady.
This is the story of how, for years, I pretended I hated the color blue. But what the peacock can do is remind you of a home you will run away from and run back to all your life: My favorite color is peacock blue. My favorite color is peacock blue. My favorite color is peacock blue
The gem sparkled, but even then I blanched—I barely liked boys, and I remember thinking it was too much attention, too much shine, too serious. All I wanted was for him to keep picking me first in kickball teams, have my back if anyone else cracked some racist joke to me again, maybe sit next to me in the cafeteria once in a while
Laughing eyes–my mom once observed after she first met him–to describe how his eyes shine at everything, how this man has a knack for making everyone around him feel pretty darn magnificent. You know, it’s very good for a man to have laughing eyes! But at that moment, his eyes weren’t laughing across the restaurant table from me. His serious face told me–through all the electric and fragrant greens, the spray and the shine of the wild bursts of fruit, the messy blood-red days and the stench and the stink too—this finally was a man who’d never flinch, never leave my side when things were messy,
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The plink-plink of fruit pieces and seeds made the water boil with minnows and tiny turtles.
It is this way with wonder: it takes a bit of patience, and it takes putting yourself in the right place at the right time. It requires that we be curious enough to forgo our small distractions in order to find the world.
