Waiting for Ripeness

Pomegranates aren't in season yet. I keep gazing up at the pomegranate tree in the back of my building with the hope that the little green globes with their pointed crowns will be a lovely shade of red. I'll come along and the branches will bow to me with the weight of this delectable fruit. "For you, Meriwether!" the tree will declare. Then I will take the pomegranates home, slice them open and dine on the ruby treasure inside, that juicy deliciousness that demands to be appreciated with every delicate taste.

For now, I will have to make do with pomegranate lokum, a treat that pairs nicely with watching the Daily Show in my apartment. Tonight I bought a box of Turkish delight at a new store my friend showed me. The store, Vestanbul, is located close to Istiklal Caddessi and it just might be a regular stopover for me when I am in that neighborhood. 

I have a feeling that when pomegranates are ripe, everything else in life will prosper with ripeness. Hillary Clinton will be president. Turkish friends will stop saying the C.I.A. was behind the recent botched military coup. (And while they're at it, crazy people can stop telling me 9/11 was an inside job. I find this very offensive. So please stop. Thank you!) Next, and on a much smaller scale, my apartment walls will be painted light purple, which will improve my mood immensely. I can just imagine sitting in my lovely purple apartment, savoring the seeds of a delicious pomegranate, and watching Hillary Clinton give her acceptance speech. 

But the world isn't ripe yet. I have to wait and be patient.