the sound of birds, chirping
i am ambling my way through the day, killing time on my way to meet my friend of over forty-two years; people-watching, waiting contentedly in lines, thinking about nothing in particular and simply enjoying each moment. walking into a boutique mostly for inspiration, i notice one of the saleswomen has a gorgeous and intricate henna tattoo on her hand. i admire it out loud and ask her about it. turns out, she is from Palestine and her eyes fill up with tears. "you know what's going on over there, yes? i can't talk about it without crying." "what's one of your happiest memories of your homeland and culture?" i ask, "if you'd like to share, of course." she knows immediately and grins broadly. "as a young girl i would walk in the mountains, my grandmother with fruit in a basket on her head, her rosy cheeks...the olives and fresh olive oil and the mill at harvest time. my daughter, she also lives here in the states and is growing an oliv
