Project Blog-It
I have always been a chocolate milkshake kind of girl, so strawberry stories really stand out throughout my life. The only strawberry story I have from my childhood came from a book about a little blind boy. He grew a strawberry as an offering to the child princess who planned to visit his village. He asked the sun for help, and she sent her sun rays to warm the earth. He asked for the clouds to help, and they sent raindrops. The thirsty strawberry grew fat and juicy. When the day arrived, the little blind boy plucked the ruby red ripe strawberry. The princess with her eyes closed popped the strawberry into her mouth, and it was scrumpdelicious.
I can’t remember if I had told the boy that story. One day when I knocked on his door, he opened it, told me to close my eyes, and popped a most delicious strawberry in my mouth.
One summer a friend’s husband had died. On a warm sunny afternoon several weeks later our families were together, and we went to pick strawberries in the narrow three tiered strawberry beds that stretched across her backyard. We picked and talked and remembered and laughed and cried and ate all the strawberries we picked. We lay back on the grass, our bellies full, and were happy we were together in that moment.
The first time I remember drinking a strawberry daiquiri was at DFW International Airport with Deniessa. We were sixteen and concocted this elaborate ruse to get the bar to serve us alcohol. We pretended like we didn’t speak English, pointed to picture of the strawberry daiquiri, and pulled money out. Every time the waiter asked us for our identification to prove we weren’t underage, we pulled out more money, smiled, and pointed fervently to the picture of the strawberry daiquiri. I can’t remember if we drank two or three before our flight, but I do remember we felt very proud of our accomplishment.
This year, I received a basket of strawberries from Susan and ate them with the lemon curd and cheesecake Shmonkey made me for my birthday. I also received the very first strawberry from the very first strawberry plants Deniessa ever grew. I wondered why she had saved it for me. She told me she knew that I would love it, and for her it wasn’t so much about the edible strawberry. She just loved to watch them grow. And with that, I remembered why we are friends. We compliment each other.
As I look back across these remembrances, I realize strawberries are associated with some of my most important friendships. Amazing that a fruit can do that.
Next week’s prompt: Make up names for Seven Other Dwarfs
The Seven Dwarfs' original names are Sleepy, Dopey, Grumpy, Bashful, Doc, Happy, and Sneezy.
