A simple red drop reaches to leap off a waterfall of green. Finally, it is held back no longer. It falls. It falls into a small hand conveniently placed there by a larger, guiding hand. The red orb slowly rolls till it rests in the exact center of the palm. The small fingers curl around the object ever so carefully, mindful of the ease with which the skin of the globe could be shattered.
Little does the child know that they have just ended the life of a tomato. The child has no concept of the sustenance that the plant provides the produce, much like how the guiding hand’s owner provides sustenance for the child.
The child sees the perfectly ripe tomato as an object of delight. Something to revel in, but not to contemplate further. Why should this one tomato be afforded as much thought as one would give to a book or movie? The tomato is transient, here one day, gone the next. Stories, however, last forever.
The child has yet to realize that stories start with something transient, something sometimes as simple as a tomato. Something that need only inspire and nothing more.
This child only sees what is and isn’t, not what might, will or may be. No adult knows what a child sees in that tomato. To a child, the tomato could be a ruby, a ball to play catch with or the first hints of a delicious dinner. Because adults no longer understand the simple pleasure that children find in the little things, they no longer find delight as easily.
Thus, the child’s mother finds humor in the simple joy brought to her son as he ever so carefully examines the tomato. She does not find joy in the tomato, but rather how the tomato inspires. She struggles not to laugh as his mouth drops open and his eyes start to glimmer with excitement. A dimpled cheek emerges as the little boy begins to laugh, a light sound that resounds throughout the nearly empty vegetable garden. His mouth struggles just a bit to produce the necessary shapes and sounds for the word tomato. His mother smiles her encouragement and he presses on, intent on winning her approval and love, unaware of the fact that the latter, if not the former as well, is unconditional.
The boy’s mother gently corrects him before they move onto the next vegetable in the garden. This one promises to invite even more excitement in the boy. The prospect of leafy green giving way to smooth orange is sure to please him.
I’m back! I know that it’s been a while since my last post, but it’s taken a bit of time to get used to the US again. Here we go, a small piece inspired by a visit to the farm this morning. I really tried to work on my descriptions, something that I’ve had issues with in the past. Thoughts?