Not the only fruit

Tonight's image is courtesy of Ulrika Spielman over at Stolen.la

Working in the Ministry and Michael and I fall into conversation about the smell of oranges. He recites a poem to me.

The Stolen Orange by Brian Patten

When I went out I stole an orange
I kept it in my pocket
It felt like a warm planet

Everywhere I went I smelt of oranges
Whenever I got into an awkward situation
I'd take out the orange and smell it

And immediately on even dead branches I saw
The lovely and fierce orange blosson
That smells so much of joy

When I went out I stole an orange
It was a safeguard against imagining
there was nothing bright or special in the world.

I desperately need all the stolen oranges I can get at the moment. I am working very hard to change some things in Sarah's world. This is not proving easy at times. The more I try to change things, the shakier my world feels. Everything seems new, uncertain, ambiguous. I cling to the things and the people who I feel safest with in the world. My social life has, of necessity, shrunk a little.

At the A Cappella group this evening, I laugh more than I have for a long time. the group has fallen into my life at the best time, like a perfect, fully-formed and unasked-for gift. There is a natural positive energy that is released into the ether when people come together and sing, and I may be a fan of Jo, our teacher, for the rest of my life, for releasing the voices that some of have kept hidden. She is not afraid to stand in the centre of us and dance and sing at the top of her voice. Her courage releases ours.

Our last song is Let It Be, by the Beatles. It feels like a lullaby when the group sing. Before we go, Marie announces our first performance is to be in March. Somehow we all still laugh.