Pollen on her lips

Cal pulled her head from the pot. “Mhmmm, fragrant.”

Urania and Thalia shared a smile. Thalia mimed the action of brushing crumbs from her cookie duster as a sign that Cal might want to do the same. The Muse of Wit understood that actions could speak gentler than words.

Urania gazed into the distance and sat up straight. “For months now the trio and Typist have listened to their friend share a… a… distaste? for the United States of America.” Every time Nia heard the fellow American grumble, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. All of the muses, and their plucky little Typist, have a love of family, homestead, community, state, country, world… and beyond.

If you can’t love and bloom where you’re planted, what hope is there?

And yet Nia always kept her lips zipped, honoring Cal’s belief that the right time would come to show their heart. Eventually — at the patient pace of nature — just as Cal predicted — the fruit ripened yesterday.

Willing a perspective of courage and curiosity, Typist said to her friend, “I want to ask you something that might seem contentious. With the Fourth of July fast approaching, I’d like to understand more about your feelings regarding America. I’m perplexed how two people born and raised in the Midwest can have such different perspectives on what is… and what might be. You see, even though I’ve not commented up until now, I love America. I’m beyond grateful for my life here.”

And the big, scary story of what might come of showing her true self evaporated. The friend had much to share. Typist and the trio mostly listened. Light entered through the cracks and… the pair will meet again.

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Words from Typist:

Marion Konishi… This is one of the most impactful pieces I have ever read.
I think of the courage it must have taken for the Japanese internee to write and speak from her heart.