The average color of the universe is cosmic latte—a light beige. Not a dark, swirling black or a brilliant flash of yellow. A warm, boring, in the middle beige. Perfectly suited for Goldilocks. I’d like to imagine that if all of my experiences were poured into a glass jar and mixed like a can of paint, a pristine shade of cosmic latte would emerge.
I keep thinking about the format of Jeopardy: it starts with answers and ends with questions. How different this is from life. Lately it feels like there are only questions and no answers. Nothing is predictable or reliable. It’s unclear what’s to come.
I’d like to imagine that if all of my experiences were poured into a glass jar and mixed like a can of paint, a pristine shade of cosmic latte would emerge.
And yet, there are moments that feel like answers. Driving in the car with my friend, masks on and windows open, a not-so-scary Sunday afternoon, she tells me I seem really happy. The weird thing is that I am. It snuck up on me like a developing Polaroid: seemingly nothing for the longest time and then all at once something. Joy spills out in golden splatters from the places I forgot about. The pitter-patter of puppy feet scampering about the house, ready to play at 7am. A spontaneous trip to Dunkin because there’s nothing else to do but drink coffee. In a phone call with my mom, she says my old self has reemerged. I don’t say anything back, but she’s onto something.
Joy spills out in golden splatters from the places I forgot about.
Too many things have happened to process. So many devastating. All questions and no answers. The main one—why?—worms its way around my brain in moments of solitude or desperation.
But questions are not dead ends or outcomes. Lately, whenever I’m up late studying, my glasses slip off my nose and my tired eyes no longer focus. As my head falls back onto a pillow, my glance floats up to the string lights lining the tops of the walls. They look so much brighter like this, my sight slightly impaired. So blurry and soft. Like ripples of cosmic latte waiting for me to take a sip. Sometimes the only thing I know how to do is enjoy the blur.