Looking for Playfulness: A Raspberry Love Story
Are you still confused about how to find joy in small things?
Have some raspberries.
Unless you’re gentle and can pick them up daintily, you can’t eat more than one without making a mess.
You never know what berry you’ll get when you reach for one.
Sometimes, the berry cooperates.
Sometimes, it disintegrates.
Sometimes, the raspberry is so big your finger transmogrifies into a thimble thespian, miming tales of mirth and rebirth.
The first raspberry always dispels doubt.
By the second or third berry, you’ve set the stage.
And then comes the performance. You gobble up berries while your mind surrenders to glee.
Your fingertips get slick with juice and memory blushes.
You loose all self-consciousness when you smile.
You loose all gaucheness when you giggle.
You do whatever it takes to prolong the moment, including puckering for a pink peck and mingling fingers with tongues.
Fun is a raspberry-capped finger.
You probably don’t live exclusively on raspberries.
Fun is an instant, impulsive, invigorating, irresistible. It’s the ridicule you brave, the relief you crave.
Fun is a coping mechanism.
Fun is a mindset.
Fun is creativity.
Indomitable laughter erupting from within squishes and quashes disquiet. Life looks possible again, at last.
I’m a French-American writer, journalist, and editor now based in the Netherlands. To continue the conversation, follow the bird. For email and everything else, deets in bio.