Over Citrus Skies
-2020-
high voice, piano ~5"
Performed by Claire McCahan, mezzo-soprano, and Er-Hsuan Li, piano, on March 11th, 2020 at the University of Colorado Boulder.
“inside my mother’s veins runs grapefruit juice.
baptized in sticky-sweet, flickering blown out.
rose blessed the pomelo tree when she left, juice and tears kissing our cheeks.
the oranges on the patio grow and grow,
pitted skin softens to soil!
my own flesh and grapefruit blood!
pale, pink, bitter-sweet,
to be savored only for a season.”
My mother and her mother share a birthday. When my mother was born, the hospital staff brought in a half of a grapefruit with a candle in it to celebrate.
When my great-grandmother died, we joked that her spirit had blessed the citrus trees in her backyard. That year we had lemons the size of oranges, oranges the size of grapefruits, grapefruits the size of pomelos.
When my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, my mother flew out to take care of her. Every morning, she would ask for a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, usually squeezed from oranges bought at a small market around the corner, but occasionally squeezed from an orange picked from the little tree growing on her patio. Most of them weren’t quite ripe yet, but as the weeks passed, they grew larger and larger. My grandmother had a tumor the size of a grapefruit growing on her liver.
The last time I ever saw my grandmother, I went in and sat next to her bed. We had breakfast together, me with a large omelette, her with a small glass of orange juice. We chatted. Then, as it neared time for me to go, she turned to me, clasped my hand in hers, and in a shaky voice, said, “This is goodbye, isn’t it?” We paused. “I suppose so,” I said. I told her, “I’m coming back in a few weeks, but if it’s time to go, don’t wait for me.” She nodded gently. I stood up, leaned over her bed, we embraced, and I kissed her forehead. I steeled myself, and walked out of her room, toward the kitchen, toward the car, drove out towards the airport.
We take off, fly out over the ocean, bank, and level, bank again. I can’t control the tears streaming down my cheeks. Each bank and level reveals a new oceanscape through the tiny round window. It’s a glorious, sunny afternoon, with scattered clouds as far as the eye can see. We keep climbing, up and up, and fly out over citrus skies.