Thalia pats her tummy and spits a pit. “Re-mem-brrrrrr last summer? When cherries tasted like cough syrup?” “Chemo tainted taste buds…” Cal runs her tongue across gums and inner cheeks that are 100% free of mouth sores. “Cancer had its drawbacks —” Nia casts an unfocused gaze into the distance, “— and yet — her teaching’s propel.”
This morning I crossed paths with a woman at the dog park who I recall meeting last year right around this same time. Last year she asked if she could add me to her prayer list. I said, “Yes, please do.”
Today I thanked her and told her I am cured. She took my hands in hers and said a little prayer. It felt… nice.
Realizing digital images have a long service life, are the red, tart (?) cherries freshly picked?
As a child, about a week after school was out, a family outing to Northeast, PA occurred. To pick cherries!! So we, the monkey brothers, (older bro and I), scrambled up ten foot tall wooden step ladders. The ladder industry didn’t waste paint writing “DO NOT STAND ON OR ABOVE THIS STEP!”
We were informed that this was not a “pick and eat” orchard! We did. We were not informed that DDT was a highly effective insecticide. The bald eagles were mum on that topic. 🤔
We picked black sweet; red sweet; and red tart cherries. The next day was the pits!😬 Most were frozen for latter. Some became cherry preserves. And, lucky us, some red tart ones became a cherry pie!!
“Thanks for the memories ...”
Bob Hope & Shirley Ross