Pink Cherry Blossom by Leanne LindsayThe Weight of Petals
I keep a pressed flower inside the pages of a heavy, leather-bound dictionary, a remnant of a spring that ended decades ago. It has lost its original vibrancy, turning the color of old parchment, yet it remains remarkably intact. When I touch…
Tagliatelle ai funghi by Rodrigo AliagaThe Weight of the Table
I still keep a small, chipped ceramic bowl that belonged to my grandmother, its glaze worn thin by decades of wooden spoons and Sunday afternoons. It is heavy in the palm, a weight that feels like a promise kept. There is a specific kind of…
The Weight of Anticipation
I keep a small, dried sprig of lavender inside a heavy book of poetry, its scent long ago surrendered to the pages. It was plucked from a garden gate on a day when I was waiting for someone who never arrived. At the time, the waiting felt like…