Meandering through the Writings of Others as Lament Practice: The Summer of Bitter and Sweet

“Campfire Ready for Later” Phone Photo by DS

Here are my explorations:

Ferguson, Jen. The Summer of Bitter and Sweet. 2022

993 words

*** This book is about an ice-cream shack, yes, but it’s also about real traumas teens face. *** Indigenous and Black teens *** Indigenous women, girls, and two-spirit people *** If you’re not ready that’s okay *** find healing in Lou’s story *** RED: Winter isn’t colorless . . . impossible buds on trees *** We’re a sight. Three pickup trucks traveling down the highway, each with one of the Creamery’s picnic tables overhanging the tailgate. And me, in the lead . . . my best friend Florence laughing . . . we’re tough enough. *** We’re giggling over the song lyrics *** No one asks where Wyatt, my boyfriend, is this morning. *** Florence wipes paint from my face carefully. *** Survival is always in the back of our minds. *** We kissed forty-six times. *** You don’t have to like giving BJs for you to … just pretend. *** Sometimes, life gets super clear. *** These days I hate lying to my family. *** Mom walks toward the fridge, but she stops to run her hand through my hair. *** A crow in one of the trees caws down at us. *** Like he didn’t call me his Native girlfriend . . . Why do you have to point out he’s Black? *** Wyatt, he shrugs. *** Why can’t he just be a man of mystery? *** It doesn’t bother me, King says staring at me, Black isn’t a bad word, Lou. *** Our customers, mostly teens, begin to dance. *** Calgary has a grad program I like though. *** It was always easier talking to people like this man when I was pretending to be white. *** ORANGE: The least popular flavor of ice cream, but one of the most popular sorbets. *** Today I unbraid my hair to wash it. *** I’m going to have to learn to swim in these new waters. *** It’s for the best, her being gone. *** Blue ink bleeds across the page like a wound. *** YELLOW: Dandelion wine or golden currant . . . All life exists on a spectrum, after all. *** Keesha kee taen *** I’m pushing to free myself of the mess *** He’s not himself, swimming in rough waters – in shock. *** By the time the tear at my hairline is stitched, I am all woozy. King helps me *** Sweat gathers on my upper lip. *** But secrets can burn down friendships too. *** What was he driving, do you remember? *** I can’t stop thinking about the fire and what will happen when he learns I caused him that pain too. *** GREEN: typically oregano. It’s spicy, for people who like things both hot and cold. *** We own a lot of people a lot of money. *** A firefly picks up outside. We watch it buzz and glow *** This part of me works but every time I try to imagine doing it with someone – with King – I tense up. *** Her long red hair is in a high ponytail *** BLUE: usually wild blueberries. It’s rarity that makes true blues special. *** It’s quiet in this house. My mom’s off-key singing to pop songs is missing. *** Today’s tee is bubble-gum pink and says, There is no Planet B. *** Lou, look. I asked you out and you basically ran. I get it. *** In this town I’m too Black – hell, on the prairies I’m too Black – but in my ma’s hood, at Westview in my classes, in my friends’ eyes, I’m not always Black enough. *** When I moved to Toronto, I had to learn to live in a place that is not all white space. *** BLUE: Borage flowers and honey make a delicious sorbet. *** Dear Daughter, Eighteen years of patience is something you cannot fully understand. I am not a patient man any longer – not after my time in the cage. *** The choice is yours – be my fierce warrior girl. *** When I make it back to the barn, to read the letter again, to memorize it, maybe do exactly what Florence suggested and burn it – the letter is gone. *** INDIGO: Saskatoon berries should be on every commercial ice-cream company’s rotation. To start a Michif/Metis Indigo, first you’ll make a classic jam . . . so it forms ribbons of flavor. As always, trust yourself. Try things. See what works. *** The tornado has me all out of sorts. *** She was drunk, Lou. *** He’s teaching me Toronto slang. I’m teaching him Dublin slang. *** Ty, I tried the tough-Native-chick thing with you for almost a year. It didn’t fit. *** The flies would prefer to land on or warm bodies, their little legs tickling us. Off in the trees, a crow watches us with interest. *** I take a break to scroll my mom’s Instagram. *** Text her. *** I’m more worried about you than if it was a bougie art museum like MOMA. *** Intrusive thoughts *** VIOLET: Fresh chokecherries are poisonous. Use this newfound power at your discretion. *** My mind stalls here, betraying me. *** We’re moving slowly, like goldfish in a tiny tank. *** I tongue the roof of my mouth and even that small pain doesn’t hurt as much as it feels exactly like living. *** VIOLET: At the far spectrum of the rainbow, we expect the most saturation. If you’re violet, you’re a violet. *** I turn my phone off. Something I never do. *** Clothing, deodorant, a few books, the braid of sweetgrass I was gifted at graduation, and with my bag hung over my shoulder, and my tent tucked under my other arm, I leave this house. *** Canola is in the air. *** Hand to G-O-D, he nods, then whispers, one day, Lou, I want you to read all my stories. *** She’s outside my tent. *** THE YELLOWS: Like a good dandelion wine, friends are sunshine. *** 

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