bloom; noun/verb, [bloom]
- a flower, especially one cultivated for its beauty: an exotic bloom | the hydrangea has a wealth of bloom.
- the state or period of flowering: the apple trees were in bloom.
- the state or period of greatest beauty, freshness, or vigor: a young girl, still in the bloom of youth.
- [ in sing. ] a youthful or healthy glow in a person’s complexion: her face had lost its usual bloom.
- a delicate powdery surface deposit on certain fresh fruits, leaves, or stems.
- (also algal bloom)a rapid growth of microscopic algae or cyanobacteria in water, often resulting in a colored scum on the surface.
- grayish-white appearance on chocolate caused by cocoa butter rising to the surface.
- a full bright sound, especially in a musical recording: the remastering has lost some of the bloom of the strings.
verb [ no obj. ]
- produce flowers; be in flower: a rose tree bloomed on a ruined wall.
- come into or be in full beauty or health; flourish: she bloomed as an actress under his tutelage.
- (of fire, color, or light) become radiant and glowing: color bloomed in her cheeks.
New York heat, New York heart. All these people passing, weaving through streets and traffic—this place is heavy with stories, every face carrying a conversation, shared coffee, napkins slipped across the table, cheesecake half-eaten in dim café light. It’s a silent revelation, though. People keep themselves tucked beneath stray eyes and lip smiles. Mucked boots stomping through a subway filled with Mozart. Storefronts lined with pride. Night that is never quite night, but rather a pregnant pause.
Again, a dream. This time it’s home, and Dakota’s barking, and the dining table is scattered with sketches and brushes. I talk to my sister and we laugh, and then the universe crumples into the shape of a moonflower.
I look at this city and I ask myself what it means to build, what it means to heal. A million scars and you wouldn’t know by the bandages and plaster and fresh sidewalks.
College is full of surprises. I had an audition today and found a stage-lit studio piano. I finished reading today’s newspaper with greyed fingertips. There was an article on the upcoming New York fashion shows, and for once, I knew what to do with it.
I can feel myself growing, adjusting, transforming, blooming at microscopic intervals. I’m less afraid of it. I suppose that’s a good thing.