Reference no: EM133410665
Assignment:
Many days, during late winter and early spring, my husband would return from his daily walk with two or three fruits. Usually, he would leave some of them on the counter for me to eat. I was very hesitant to eat them as I had never seen them before. Time after time, I would let them decompose, and chuck them into the kitchen trash can.
One Saturday, I went on a stroll with him. As we were having fun, just walking and talking, he skipped and then hopped on one leg while grabbing one of "those fruits" from a tree near the sidewalk. He smiled and offered me one. I immediately said, "I don't eat that!" Instantly, I felt a pang of guilt. How can I say that I don't eat something if I had never even tried it? He seemed to hesitate at that statement, but insisted that I try it. I started asking questions about the taste, texture, and toxicity. He wasn't buying it. Not quite convinced, I gingerly removed the skin and reluctantly placed it in my mouth. Humm! It was a delight! It was perfect in every way.
This lovely fruit has brought joy to even my dullest days. Every year when the Japonica are in season, I am impatiently, excitedly waiting for him to come home. With doggie and daughter clipped in, we hop on our tandem bicycle for a perusal of the neighborhood trees. A four-way stop sign has a small tree on the servitude, ripe for the picking. An abandoned, overgrown lot with an enormous tree bent under the weight of its fruit. A well-tended yard has a long branch reaching across the fence and over the sidewalk. And a neighborly man lets us pick from the tree overhanging his driveway. Here a little, there a little, we fill our basket, always having our fill.