I have four orchids in the kitchen - masses of tangled roots, a few leaves, old and neglected. This one produced a single flower last week. I'm amazed it keeps coming back - exquisite beauty - surviving but not thriving - on very little attention.
Tonight, in-between the sun sinking into its bed of fire,
and the perfect whole moon rising into black velvet, I find I'm not hungry but still eating.
After a sumptuous tempured cod and chips lunch in a restaurant I don't want supper but end up asking my husband to make us something on toast.....egg for me ( I should be tired of it by now but I'm not). I spread a second piece of toast - granary sourdough - with a Christmas present of thick and dreamy Armenian honey and then a third piece - hot with melting butter.
A bit later, deep in an old episode of Judge John Deed on TV I finish off a crumbly, dark, vine-fruited wedge of my sister's Christmas pudding from Saturday's supper with our big sister ( luckily no Seriously Creamy Custard left) and half a bar of Green and Black's 70% dark chocolate that I asked my husband to buy at Tesco Express on his nightly walk into town.
Not hungry but still eating.....full up but not listening....stuffing it all down. I used to feel so bad and guilty..... and sick.....but tonight I'm not going to rummage into the why did I do it.... to berate and belittle myself. It feels much better to just love the big round drum of my tummy.....to give it my full and kind attention.....like a orchid bud in need of light and warmth and nourishment.
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