Red Onions, by Alexandra Hanson-Harding
Lately, I have been obsessed with drawing circles. I got the idea from some beautiful African dyed indigo cloth. But when I created this piece, my future superchef child Jacob said, “OMG, Mom, you should name that piece red onions.” And then I saw how the different purples and shapes did indeed resemble a very large collection of red onions, which Mr. H eats raw every day. So as you stare into the depths, let your mind wander to the onionyness if you like. Think of how amazing onions are–how impoverished our diet would be without them. And yet how they exact a cost in painful tears as you slice into them. I don’t usually like raw onions myself. I think they need heat to coax out the sweetness and complexity they bring to so many dishes. They remind me of some people who at first can be so sharp and painful to deal with that one gasps and tears up immediately. But if warmth is steadily applied, they too can give up the treasure of their own sweet complexity. It reminds me not to give up on people just because they might seem offputting at first. I like to see if kindness and interest will let me pass through the painful thresshold and find their rich, true essence.
Writing Prompt: Write about a memory involving onions.
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