Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I have been eating a pomegranate for the last hour. I love those.
I have been sitting in my over-sized chair in the semi-darkness. Slowly I have enjoyed my anti-oxidant rich snack.
I have been staring at my toes and thinking. About my sister's wedding. I am so happy for her. About the dress and red rose I will wear in my hair. I am so happy for me. About Serena turning 13 tomorrow. I am blessed to have her. Am I really old enough to own a teenager?
I bought my granada for $1.50. A special treat for just me.
I didn't know the English word for pomegranate until I was a freshman in high school.
I used to steal granadas from my Abuelita's neighbor. Abuelita always scolded granada thieves. I ate them with my cousins and siblings under the branches of the great tree. There we would hide with sticky fingers and faces until we were discovered. I often stole granadas and hid them under my shirt. I fooled no one.
The pomegranate throughout history has been a powerful representation of fertility.
A friend of mine cried in my living room the other night. She wants a child so badly. I silently prayed for the desire of her heart.
I have always taken my own fertility for granted. The very thought of a baby plants a seed in my womb. My Granny had 9 children. My Abuelita had 8. Tia Lupita had 13. Her last at the age of 50 which she delivered alone for pride. She felt 50 was too old to have a baby...
We are a fertile people.
Fertile Myrtles, we are.
I like to pluck the seeds one by one and place them on my tongue. I roll a single juicy kernel around my mouth before I bite.
My husband thinks they are a silly fruit that take far too much time and effort to consume.
I find great beauty in a sweet fruit that takes so much tenderness and care to indulge.
Homer mentions the fruit in the Odyssey.
The Song of Solomon sings her praises 6 times.
I am certain pomegranates grew in abundance in The Garden of Eden. Of this fruit ye may freely eat...
So I do.
My fingers are sticky.