Sweet

For many years, I had believed that pineapple comes in identical rings packed in heavy syrup in cans. But today we found this prickly looking thing in the garden and inside it turned out to be as sweet and juicy as a baby’s bottom. Further, we learned that we should plunk the top back into the garden and in six months or so should have another. Apparently, this is normal. Things grow in the dirt, you eat the parts you like, chuck the rest back in the dirt and Mother Nature gives you more. Wow. If that’s not unconditional love, I will swallow my own flip-flops.

But in a moment of reflection, questions and concerns started to percolate like the coffee in the pot on my grandma’s stove. Was my understanding of order in the universe based on cotton candy spun across a chasm of false assumptions?

I spent some time with Mr. Google and discovered that meat doesn’t come into existence neatly wrapped in plastic and displayed under flattering light at the supermarket. Chocolate milk doesn’t come from chocolate cows. Processed cheese doesn’t have any actual cheese in it and calling it ‘food’ is playing fast and loose with Noah Webster’s patience.

The veils of innocence have been swept away. As my wondering eyes slowly open onto a new and exotic world, I am full of wonder. Does Santa have an actual bowlful of jelly? Are visions of sugarplums actually dancing prunes? Does the Easter bunny really lay eggs? Do leprechauns not drink green beer? Do unicorns not poop jelly beans? Are Peeps actually birds? And if so, are the birds hopping around in my garden also stuffed with marshmallow?


With all of those tantalizing thoughts doing the fandango inside my head, I remember that my doctor has told me not to eat sweet fruit like bananas and pineapples.

Pineapples.

PINEAPPLES!

Where medical instructions go, I tend to be pretty obedient. I mean, doctors go to school for about a bazillion years so probably know what they’re talking about. But Mother Nature has seen fit to provide me with a golden gift conjured from mere sunshine and lava dust, and I dare not scoff at unconditional love. So thank you, Dr. Sara, you seem caring and dedicated and I deeply appreciate your concern for my health, but I am going to eat that pineapple, and others like it, and I am going to enjoy it.