Week in Seven Words #452

aerial
I dream of popping out of an airplane to film it in the clouds, which are soaked in a deep orange sunset.

delicate
Her apartment is filled with light and has a fragile quality. She moves as if she's afraid to touch anything. A picture frame on the gleaming piano or the small blue vase on the coffee table can shatter easily.

dementia
She's convinced her 3-year-old grandson is at the synagogue. She keeps asking people if they've seen him. He must have run off somewhere. It doesn't matter that her nurse and some of the congregants gently explain that he isn't there – that the boy she's thinking of is an adult and not in town. She's certain he's run away and gotten lost. She insists that people look for him.

kavanah (כַּוָּנָה)
I feel pierced by the urgency of the prayers, and the melodies, and the moving, sobbing, joyful, singing voices.

numeracy
The middle-aged man who shares the elevator with me sees that I'm going to the seventh floor. "Seven's a lucky number," he says. "Hopefully," I say. To which he replies, "It's a prime number." So I point to his destination. "That's a multiple of seven," I say, because he's heading to floor 28. "So it is!" he replies.

swooping
That evening, there's a large moth in the synagogue. Mostly it hops and skips among the lights. Sometimes it dive-bombs people.

well-meaning
"They try to be so helpful," she says, sorting through the holiday care package, "but as a pre-diabetic, I can't eat a lot of the food here."

Week in Seven Words #119

asynchronous
More sunlight is what I need. So I go for a walk. Turns out the weather is cloudy and cool, but at least it doesn't rain, and I enjoy being outdoors. As soon as I get home, the sun comes out.

crisp
Papery green leaves layer the trees outside my building. I want to pluck a leaf off its branch and write on it. If I knew origami I'd fold it into a turtle or set it on the wind as a swan.

emanate
In her sleep she sings, proving that music will always find a way to be heard.

exacting
We may be at different stages in life, but here's one way we're alike - we're too hard on ourselves. She's been told she's strong, but she says she doesn't feel strong inside. I tell her that her actions are what count. In spite of any fear or misgivings she's always done her best; she has behaved with courage and dignity and love. It's unrealistic to never feel fear, to always feel strong, especially for someone in her circumstances.

inedible
The store is closing for the summer, and the only things left on the shelves are food products depicted on their labels as starchy yellow lumps with unappetizing names.

infarct
The elevator sounds like it's suffering a heart attack. Will it hold out long enough to get us to the right floor?

nerds
A comment about someone's Facebook photo turns into a discussion of the Battle of Gettysburg and then the Civil War more generally. I'm among my people.

Week in Seven Words #51

alphabetical
At his birthday dinner his daughter slips letters under our plates. At some point in the evening we will each come up with a different blessing and well-wish for him that starts with the letter that we got.

beckon
The elevator doors open revealing two rows of empty chairs, facing forward. I imagine stepping in, sitting on one, and being whisked away to a floor that doesn't exist.

expedition
The delight of finding that all the library books on the list are there, exactly where they should be on each shelf. On the way to the checkout counter I cradle them against me as if they are newly born and in need of a home.

gradient
The pleasant shock of a warm room after a long walk in the windy cold.

illusion
On a Thursday evening, looming deadlines seem distant.

refection
The edge of the spoon skims across the stew; pieces of fish, potato and carrot brush against each other. The spoon sinks deeper, tilts, fills with chunky creamy stew. The lunch hour lasts longer if you linger over each spoonful.

zoological
In my mailbox I find a glittering gold bag containing an insectile windup toy and a small blue dog.