I know the hunger to escape, often found in the grey-white pages of a beloved novel. Or the hunger for peace, relieved in the quiet white of a snow capped mountain. I’ve seen a hunger for intimacy, unsatisfied in a little red car that could so easily spin out of control. I’ve felt a hunger for community and sought it out where a woman in rose colored tights preached to a vast room not even close to being filled. I’ve encountered the hunger to be connected across thousands of miles in two shades of blue and two shades of pink, and weeks of work on hand made blankets. I have never known true hunger for food, but I’ve seen it in the grey and withered hands of the old woman who took the bag of garbage from me before I could throw it away, in a poor and desperate country. I’ve observed a hunger to convey what only music truly can, in the dim yellow lights from two lamps on a darkened stage, where one of the world’s most accomplished mandolin players brings Bach to life in a way that is only understood by hearing. I know of the hunger to be remembered, wrapped up in a green and brown scarf. I discovered a hunger to be dancing and free in a little black dress and silver shoes. The hunger to be wanted has shown up in too many shades of blue to name. I’ve seen the satisfied hunger to be married to the one you love, in a white jacket and purple tie. I have dug deep into the hunger to be understood in the black of a keyboard or a brown notepad. I’ve heard of the hunger to make a profound change in one’s life, taking the shape of an orange anatomy textbook. The hunger for a stronger faith has lately been rearing its head in clear, salty tears. Soon I will bake a brown and orange cake, to celebrate a friend’s quenched hunger for finality. Every day this time of year, I am hungry for hope when I see the red and yellow leaves on the trees. But I am, now, today, yesterday and tomorrow, hungry, starving, for closure, and the only thing I see is black and white, which are both the absence of color, and all of them mixed together.
(This is an original piece written by me, the author of this blog. It cannot be used without my permission)