Sweet Potato Haircut

This writing space got it’s name at Trader Joe’s, where my friend and I were filling time until our shifts were over by trimming the spindly appendages of the stocked sweet potatoes, laughing tiredly and feeling eased by the simple and somehow gentle act. Those wispy spirals reaching out and out, toward sun and toward life, touching our fingertips with dusty earth and rooting my feet to the floor, reminding me of my innate belonging to things.

If there were to be a purpose statement for this space, it might be to inspire community through stories of experience, to shape something relatable and reassuring, to remind myself through words that I am grounded as a witness to existence as it moves through the leaves and the snow starched air, as it awakens my tender heart and pulls us toward each other inextricably, until we are all together again. Until the rivers inevitably reach the ocean. Sweet potato haircuts and friendship and love and silence propel us through this wicked and wonderful life, and these are my words.