Friday, July 2, 2010

Summer Lovin'


One of my most favorite types of produce to buy from a farmers' market is apricots. I love their small, humble beauty. Tiny little orbs of light, they are simple, and a little sexy. To me, they have one of the most pure tastes I've ever experienced; very definitively apricot. There is no mistaking it. I love that, like orange, grape, and tangerine, they have a color name.

Ever since my 21st birthday, my mom has always given me a handmade card. Nothing fancy, just white paper with "Happy Birthday" written on it. But the precious part of these cards, is that, year after year, she finds some little poem to paste onto it. I don't know where she comes across these things. She doesn't particularly care about poetry, but she knows I do. And so there they are. These small, surprising, unknown poems.

The first year she did it, the poem was about apricots:

A Newborn Girl
by Nan Cohen

Consider one apricot in a basket of them.
It is very much like all the other apricots--
an individual already, skin and seed.

Now think of this day. One you will probably forget.
The next breath you take, a long drink of air.
Holiday or not, it doesn't matter

A child is born and doesn't know what day it is.
The particular joy in my heart she cannot imagine.
The taste of apricots is in store for her.

Ah, I just love that. The taste of apricots is in store for her. The mother is so excited for all the beautiful things that her daughter has yet to experience. Surely the taste of apricots is one of them.

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