Food is funny. Not in the funny ha, ha kind of funny but funny in the way that simple foods or particular food items can open floodgates of memories.
That kind of funny.
I had the pleasure of swimming in such memories this evening.
The summer’s first watermelon did not disappoint. It was red like you would expect a watermelon to be, sweet and juicy. I should add delicious in there as well because it was, well — delicious!
We took to the deck after dinner because I knew it was going to get messy and I didn’t need the stress in my clean kitchen.
The kids had a blast chomping and spitting seeds. And generally making the mess I knew they were going to make.
I soaked up the cool waters of memories distant but not so far that they were without the warmth of emotion that pleasant memories tend to hold.
My mother was able to visit our home just once before she passed. We had just moved into our house (5 days just moved) when she came to stay with us for a week.
I don’t remember the chaos of packing boxes or the utter fatigue I surely felt at having to ready the house for her arrival.
I remember the watermelon.
One evening after dinner, we sat out on the deck and enjoyed some fresh, juicy watermelon. About halfway through my mom looked up from her slice, hands dripping with fresh juice and grinning ear to ear.
She smiled, sighed heavily the heavy sigh of contentment and then she stated almost rhetorically, “I wonder what all the poor people are doing tonight?”
To which I replied, “Mom, they’re sitting on the deck eating watermelon.”