I watch as the basket fills up.
First, heaping lemons line the bottom of the weaved wicker, smiling up at me. Their presence is comforting and joyful—despite their occasional sour taste. I know that they are the perfect baseline for the little world of fruit that is to come.
Growing up, I always loved lemons. I remember seeing a lemon tree for the first time; I had never known that they grew like that. Intrigued and curious, I had stared at them for what seemed like hours—discovering their secrets, bathing in the warmth of the rising sun, watching and waiting for me to understand them like never before.
So, when the lemons come, I’m grinning. What a perfect start to a fruit basket.
Next come the bananas. They tumble not-so-gracefully, bouncing and bruising themselves along the way. Their shape is awkward, and they blend in with the bright rinds of the lemons beneath. Still, I see them.
There was a time in my life when bananas were everything to me. In third grade, I learned that rolling a banana in peanut butter and cornflakes was a healthy breakfast. So, that’s what I made in the mornings; however, over time, as everything else eventually does, my routine diet dispersed to welcome new foods, and the bananas disappeared from my daily life.
Even though bananas aren’t as important to me anymore, I know that I will always treasure them. When they join the lemons, I can’t help but feel a flutter of appreciation.
Now, a grapefruit rolls in. Before, I’ve seen oranges and limes and apples aplenty, but grapefruits are rare. When it approaches, I simply stare. I’m not sure what to believe.
I’ve never known what to believe with grapefruits, in all honesty. They masquerade as an orange, but they truly have a dark-pink center and a semi-tart taste. Some people love them, and some don’t. I’ve never discovered if I’m the former or the latter.
Still, I can’t help but welcome the grapefruit as it props up on the edge of the basket. The grapefruit doesn’t seem sour, and it doesn’t shove any fruits as it settles into a spot in the center. It’s simply there, and there’s something about it that I can’t help but feel devoted to. I’ll give it a chance.
And something new—a kumquat?
I remember the first time I was introduced to one. It’s a distinct memory, though it was many, many years ago. My elementary teacher was handing out kumquats for us to try, and I took one, thinking it was a pickle. Since kumquats don’t look anything like a pickle, I wonder what I saw in it to believe such a silly thing.
I do know one thing that influenced my assumption: the kumquats were green. And just like those kumquats, the ones stored in memories far back, the ones in the basket are green.
This is an interesting assortment of fruit.
