Start with two heaping cups of halved cherries. Assume that any recipe that calls for heaping anything will be good, but maybe especially heaping fruit.
Notice: fingers stained with cherry juice. Shining fruit, dark red.
Make a syrup with sugar and water.
The promise of something simple and sweet is enticing. The motions of cutting into fruit, hollowing out pits, stirring until sugar becomes one with water, are absorbing. Music in the background, and sunlight. The children are quiet but not dangerously-so. Think about a friend’s words and how they hit home, even if they shifted slightly in the hitting: I pour into other people’s lives, I look for ways to bring them comfort and happiness. But I can’t find joy anywhere myself, right now.
Yes. These feelings are familiar. What to do but keep looking? Keep pouring out. Keep caring for others, keep trying to care for yourself. Make cherry sorbet—not because there’s time, not because things make sense, not because life actually feels like a bowl of cherries. Do it as an act of faith.
Notice the sun on the fruit. Hear the music. Feel the graininess of sugar through the wooden spoon. Anticipate the flavor, the coolness, and leave everything else aside for a while.