The unruly juice of an unexpected peach
This #thankyouthursday, I am grateful for the unruly juice of an unexpected peach.
I don’t typically eat peaches. Though I try to be low-key about it, I contend with quite a few food aversions and specific preferences, and several fruits land on my “no, thanks” list—peaches being one of them, mostly due to their unpredictable texture.
But last night my mother-in-law brought by half a carton of peaches, because she knows my son loves them, and sure enough, he immediately asked me to give him one.
Well, actually, he asked me to give him half of one, which meant we both ended up at the kitchen counter with knives and cutting boards (he has his own kid-friendly set), sawing away at a rather large peach.
The peach was not particularly firm. In fact, it was so soft and juicy that slicing it was a challenge, especially for the kid-friendly knife. But we persevered, and before long there were multiple pieces of peach available for consumption.
My kid ate one, then declared himself done.
Whiiiiich is how I found myself gingerly pinching a dripping hunk of fruit and deciding to consume it.
THE PEACH WAS DELIGHTFUL.
Like, an explosion of late summer love flooding my tastebuds and, yes, juice getting a little bit kind of all over the place, but really, who cares.
Part of me was even impressed/inspired by the audacity of the peach’s unruly juice. That juice was a source of joy, fully present, unapologetic.
And I was grateful.
Love > fear,
Christina