Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 16

ELOISE DUPONT

"Okay girls, what do we think?" Ricky was bringing in the last of the bags from the taxi while Jade and I began exploring today's airbnb that we would be in for the next two days. To say that this is a masterpiece is actually an understatement. We were in a luxury ocean view penthouse with a pool in the apartment. The living room was all glass, giving insane light to the home, and overall it was way too big for just us three to be staying in.

However, despite the size, Ricky said it was just the place we needed, because this is a working vacation and we needed to see sights. Ricky laid out plans that we should do in our downtime tonight and tomorrow morning before an evening class.

Jade and I were ready for Ricky's intricate itinerary within moments, only taking in the sight of blue cascading waves and perfectly manicured beaches outside our window for a moment. "Okay stop one is the Museu de Arte de Lima."

An hour later, Jade and I remembered why Ricky is the planner. This was such an extensive art museum with numerous curators and every type of medium you could imagine. The were indoor artworks, a sculpture garden with sprawling landscapes, and a basement filled with pottery spanning numerous generations.

I found a particular area that indulged my mind to wonder. It was a seemingly plain room compared to some of the others nearby that had bright colored pieces across each wall, instead this room had only four paintings in it. Each painting told a story by a local artist, the entire piece done only in shades of white, cream, tan, caramel, and browns. The first photo was called Vida meaning Life. It had a young girl planting a flower into the ground, the plant was already full of bloom.

The second portrait was larger and darker, called Amar, translated to Love. In this the woman was old and the garden was flourishing around her, flowers as tall as her springing to life. The third photo was when everything began to change, with the light tones getting darker, Eternamente, Eternally or Forever. The old lady was not in this photo but the garden was as big as ever, taking up the entire canvas at this point. The finale was called Principios, or Beginnings, which showed a young boy picking flowers for a girl.

I stared at these images for so long that they started to paint themselves into my memory forever, colorless but full of life. Each stage reminds me of my own life journey. I wonder which stage I am at right now.

Am I in my own beginning stage of life, restarting? Did I hit a rock bottom and need to find new purposes and reach closure with the old chapters? My divorce is pending and looming over me like a besmirched perfect record of happiness in my life.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I hadn't realized I wasn't alone in the room, too engrossed in the artwork. The girl was young, probably in her late teens, she too was alone. Her shirt was bright yellow hidden beneath overalls, and long braids that made her look even younger. "I have seen photos of these before, but this is my first time seeing them fully. I hate them honestly."

She shakes her head solemnly at the same photos I was just revering over.

I was taken back, "how could you hate them?" Confusion clear as day in my expression.

"I feel all to much when I see them. I feel fear for my own mortality, the pending ending of it all, the potential to wonder if when I am nearing my own final days if everything was a waste. What if I don't plant and tend to my own garden? I pour myself into everyone else's and I die alone, just like she did. Her only love was the garden, and it goes on despite the fact she won't. It's tragic."

I look back onto the painted canvases, a wildly different view than my own was had by the young girl. She continues on though while I stare at the pieces, "I'm still young, so I guess the fear of getting old and dying is something I shouldn't consider. Aren't these the years I am supposed to be young, wild, free, and testing the limits?"