Almond Blossoms

I don’t remember when exactly I started gazing at the clouds and contemplating their meaning, but I remember why I started: I wanted to talk to God, who dwelled in the sky. I was a child, after all, and I lacked originality: He was an old man with a long white beard, white caftan, and wrinkled handsome face. That’s how I started gazing at the clouds so that I could directly talk to “him” like a friend.

Whenever I was sad or angry or felt left out on the playground, I looked up at the sky and talked to God about my disappointments, and asked him for favors like “Please, make them like me”, or “I want a skateboard”. It worked, I believed, I was pretty sure it worked. He was always understanding and wise, but he never responded. As I got older, my questions transformed into “why” questions like “Why do I exist,” “Why do I have to suffer,”  or “Why do I have to walk so long to school.”

One day I asked him why I had to wear glasses, which I was ashamed of. He didn’t respond, as usual, but something peculiar happened. The sky was partly cloudy, as it was springtime. While I was gazing at the clouds, behind which God sat on his mighty throne, I realized that a bunch of the clouds had the shape of almonds. The oval form of an almond could be anything, but I swear it was a true almond, nothing else. It was not just a single almond, but a handful of them together. This was a later period, when I was about fourteen, at the time when I started questioning religion, or other mysteries of reality that I wasn’t thought at school.

I “felt” this was a divine sign. It was also odd because I had an allergy to almonds, so I started pondering about its relation to my question. Did God give me a clear answer for the first time since I was a kid on the playground? Maybe. I had hope and thought about this for the next couple of days on the way to school, in the evenings, and when I sat alone for the lunch break.

There was this girl in the class named Jane. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes and did not pay any attention to anyone while being the center of attention herself. Sure, I liked her. My glasses were a hindrance for my cause. I wanted so badly to get rid of them. Jane would never like me with those nerdy glasses coupled with my awkward demeanor.

So I asked God if he could do something about it. The almond cloud was puzzling, and it had a profound effect on me, because I once fainted after eating a handful of almonds Jack gave me during lunch break. I was still conscious when I fainted, but I didn’t feel anything else than being the only one who existed. My friend, Jack, of course, was innocent. Jack and I enjoyed each other’s company. We hated most of the classes, but I could still get good grades, whereas Jack could hardly get by.

A couple of days later, we were in the biology class and the teacher was explaining about the human brain. Jack and I were chit-chatting and making silly jokes in the back row. He was chewing gum and took the gum out of his mouth to tell me that it was the brain of Mrs. Johnson, the biology teacher. I busted out laughing but managed to stop within a second. Mrs. Johnson was enraged when she realized we weren’t paying any attention and called us out in front of the whole class. We didn’t know what to expect and waited patiently for our fate at the mercy of Mrs. Johnson.

We stood now at the blackboard. With her infamous stick, she pointed to a brain sketch she had drawn earlier on the blackboard. I tried to erase the image of chewing gum from my mind. Mrs. Johnson asked Jack what was on the blackboard. Jack said “Brain,” and got tapped on his head with the stick repeatedly, but rather gently. When the class started laughing, I couldn’t hold back my laughter too.

Now, Mrs. Johnson had a more threatening target. I wasn’t laughing anymore. She pointed at the central part of the brain and asked me what it was. I stared out of the window as if I was trying to remember what I already knew, and this helped me gain some time. She was putting on a show for her audience just to ridicule us as a form of revenge. I said, “it looks like an almond,” of course, I was thinking of almonds the whole week and my reply was inevitable. It wasn’t meant to be a joke at all, but the whole class burst into laughter. Was this a joke from God? Maybe the old man on the clouds was laughing as well holding his huge belly and made me learn an unforgettable lesson to pray with gratitude rather than asking for favors all the time.

At that moment, I looked at my classmates and saw Jane. She wasn’t laughing at all. She seemed to be the only one who wasn’t amused. I didn’t know whether to regard this as a good or a bad sign. Mrs. Johnson didn’t perform her stick skills on me, surprisingly. She explained that the brain part was called “Amygdala”, which got its Greek name because of its almond shape. So I was right after all. I loved the twist in this Greek act, which ended in my favor.

On the way home that day, something unexpected happened. Jane approached me from behind and said, “You looked so dumb at the blackboard.” I said nothing, felt embarrassed, and continued walking. She didn’t leave me alone. She walked beside me, and it made me feel pretty good. I thanked God for making the way home that long.

We were walking on the dirt road that split the plantation. It was partly cloudy, with the sun playing hide-and-seek. That was always the best time to gaze at clouds and interpret their meanings. After a while, Jane broke the silence. She said, “Almond,” and I turned to her expecting mockery, and saw her beautiful blue eyes, but she was fixed on something far away. She said, “Look at the tree over there, it’s an almond tree!”

“How do you know?”

“Gosh, you’re so silly, everybody can recognize an almond tree.”

“I don’t see any almonds.”

“You don’t, because it’s the blossoming time, look at those beautiful flowers.”

I looked at the tree she was pointing at, the flowers were indeed beautiful, but I didn’t know how to carry the conversation forward. So I repeated, “How did you know?”

“Have you ever heard of “Almond Blossoms”? They are paintings by Van Gogh. He was so excited and inspired by the blossoming fruit trees that he completed fourteen paintings within a month.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in paintings.”

She ignored my comment and walked on to have a closer look at the flowers. I followed her and did the same, but I found myself scrutinizing the features of her beauty, more than the flowers. I was mesmerized by the view. Her lips were full, her nose was slightly bridged, and her tiny fingers were caressing the petals of an almond flower. Even the defects seemed to align themselves in harmony like a piece of art. And I thought to myself, if I were Van Gogh, I would have definitely painted this picturesque sight of her silhouette enthralled by almond blossoms.

And I did. Years later I became a semi-successful painter and painted this exact scene, and it even received high praise from the critics. Of course, I added the almond clouds in the background. It was a curious twist of fate, as this unusual interaction with Jane inspired me to become a painter and appreciate beauty. You never knew where the muse came from, although I suspect the old man on the clouds who might have prodded me with his magic staff.

As for Jane, I don’t know what happened to her after we parted for high school the same year, but I am thankful as I owe her for the discovery of my passion and love. Maybe she also became a painter and painted me and Jack, as we stood awkwardly at the blackboard, I’ll never know.