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. 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.