Things I love #2
As a South Carolinian, I have a special place in my heart for peaches. We are the true peach state, no matter what those lying thieves from Georgia might say. They are also, hands down, the greatest fruit. The fuzzy exterior. Perfectly sweet. Juicy. Just the right amount of give per bite. Best purchased from a road side stand in white paper bags. The color too. The light orange mixed with reddish hues. It looks like fall and tastes like summer. What could be better than that?
I like them for breakfast, over my oatmeal. It’s an amazing way to start the day. A perfect example of the beauty of God’s bounty. Speaking of God, I firmly believe a sliced peach served over vanilla ice cream could make the most ardent atheist believe in Jesus. Or Buddha or Mohammed. Or whoever creates these things.
I’m not being hyperbolic. Peaches over vanilla ice cream is that good.
Unless, of course, it isn’t.
See, life is a risk. So are peaches.
There is no such thing as an "OK" peach. They either lead to thoughts of the divine, or make me question whether or not life is worth living.
A bad peach is horrendous. Such a disappointment. Soft. Mealy. The inside collapses under the weight of my sadness. The only option is to throw it out. Then I think of the people who can’t afford peacehs and I feel like a bad liberal. I think about fishing it out of the garbage and eating just to complete the cycle of sadness.
It’s tough to tell the good from the bad. There are signs of course, ways to minimize the risk. But ultimately the only way to tell is to take your life into your own hands and bite into the thing. In that instant is either glory or defeat.
Such is life. Such is love.
I continue to try. Because what is that saying? Better to have loved and lost? Yeah. He was definitely talking about peaches.