Make lemonade. Right. Can bitterness be sweetened with enough effort, and turned into something palatable? But I don't even like lemonade. Why use lemon for this metaphor about resilience and positivity and making the best of things? Instead of squeezing, I’ll plant the seeds. I don’t really believe in some grand transformation, I just don't know what else to do with them. So, I give it soil. I water it when I remember. I let it grow into whatever it's going to be. I'm not trying to teach it some lesson about purpose or perseverance. It's just a tree and I'm just here. And when it's tall enough, when the branches give shade and the fruit appears, I sit beneath it. I've not learned something profound, and growth has not redeemed the bitterness, I think the shade is nice, and the sky colors shift at sunset and for a minute everything looks softer. You're there sometimes. We don't talk about meaning. We just take in the light, the way clouds move, the fact that we're both still here even though neither of us planned this. The lemon tree grows. We exist near it. That's it. Us sitting in proximity, watching the day end, trying to take in whatever beauty without making it mean more than it does. And if you tell me one more time to make lemonade out of life's lemons or some other stuff, I'll kick your ass. Just kidding. Or not. Mizuyōkaii, 2026