Some lovely neighbours of ours brought us back a basket full of Okanagan plums last week after their vacation. I love plums. There were dark red ones and some light yellow. I went for the dark red. The first bite was indescribable, but I will try.
The tight skin burst under my teeth and juice exploded out onto my chin. My daughter ‘M’ saw this and begged to have a bite too. There goes that plum. Ok, round two.
Under the skin of plum #2 was the most sensational flavour, sweet like honey but with a hint of vanilla, deepening as you neared the dark mahogany . The middle was a mush of goodness that could only be prolonged to 2 or 3 bites (4 or 5 little ‘M’ bites).
As we sat in the afternoon sun in pure bliss with our treats (also plum #3 and #4) I could only feel gratitude. The feeling overwhelmed in that instant, drowning out all others like a tidal pool suddenly filling in from the greater ocean. I was grateful for things that were simple, not hard won. Not the clothes on my back or the house we stood in. Here were my thoughts:
I have hands and they help me to hold this fruit. To bring it to my mouth and taste it. I have eyes and they see this gift. They are able to help me wonder at the colors and the beauty of this creation. I have a nose to recognize the scent of vanilla and to associate this, along with the plum, to one of my favorite wines from the same region. I have skin to feel the sun and the soft cheek of my child as I wipe away the sticky goodness from her chin. I have ears that hear her laughter and her asking again for the 3rd time “Is this a plum?”, as she makes sure she stores the memory of taste and sight together for the future.
What small moments we are given, if we can only see them. Moments of clarity and joy. This was a day to practice gratitude and even to be given that I am grateful.