I haven’t been wanting to think it, but I’m feeling like the curve of the endearments is headed back earthward. I might be nearly through. Through making endearments themselves, that is—I think they have an opposite, a shadow, a light, which I’ve been working to discern for a few years, and maybe it will be possible to know what that is once I’ve satisfied myself in finding all the endearments I want to make. Or all the ones for now. Let’s leave a window, the possibility of another little curve.
I was feeling this pretty clear and then I came again across butterbean. Not a term we use in my family, but so good. If it were a legitimate endearment and not a fake-Southern thing, I thought, I’d be a fool not to make it. All those good letters! Bright vowels and b’s and all. I looked around online to see how often it’s used that way. I found it referenced on a couple of those sites that are self-consciously Southern, cute-style, bless-your-heart-only-means-one-thing–style, which I did not trust. The OED, which notes many words that are also endearments, doesn’t list it, prob. because it is, in fact, a Southern thing.
But how real? A query in Facebook (about which I normally feel intense ambiguity composed of a, love and curiosity for my friends and family’s doings and b, dislike of and suspicion about the platform and its owners’ veiled intentions and actions, but which is really good for purposes like this) made it definitively clear. Butterbean is alive and well and in use among a bunch of the good people I know. Genuinely, dearly so.
I’m making anagrams now, before bed, usually—already in bed, in fact, sleepy, which is possible only with such an agreeable set of letters. I’ll have to move to more attentive times of day soon, parse out the repetitions, parcel out the lot by parts of speech. But for now I fall asleep with a’s and e’s, their cheer and possibility, their magenta and bright blue, in my head.
And soon, butterbeans, a new endearment, one more at least.