Lilacs
They’re my favorites. I fell in love with lilacs when I was nine. We moved into an old house in Hesperia California and out by the fence that divided our back yard into two sections was a HUGE row of lilac bushes. I mean HUGE. They probably ran fifteen feet across at the least. I never lost the wonder of those clusters of tiny little petals with their delightful fragrance and the bees– oh how the bees loved them too.
I have a lot of favorites. Some I have felt guilty about for most of my life. Like Geraniums. I love them. My mother hates them. It always felt like I was betraying her somehow by liking them, so I kept my preferences to myself. Silly, isn’t it?
Purple. I always loved it. Mom thought it looked horrible on me. Funny thing is, if I wear purple, I’m sure to get a compliment. Otherwise, I almost never do. Interesting, no? My mother has excellent taste! It’s just so silly.
Most of my favorites aren’t guilty pleasures–although some should be. I love Coke, chocolate, and rib eye steaks. I love a good mystery, a movie with some kind of heroism, and music that wrings emotion from me– it’s the way I truly feel and express it.
Facebook has redefined “like” in some ways. It’s kind of a “thumbs up” now, but isn’t that what language does? Oh, another “L.” Language.
