Perfect Fruit
I was leaving the grocery store in the beautiful month of July (the day after my birthday, coincidentally), and a man was pulling on the branch of a tree with purplish red leaves on the corner of the parking lot. My eyes narrowed and stomach tensed as I slowed my steps. He did not have any gardening clippers in his hand and was twisting the branch and its beautiful leaves repeatedly. I am sure I was projecting my practiced ‘judgmental neighbor’ look that is so common in this part of the world. Justifying himself, the man held out his hand and opened his fist, displaying a fruit. They are plums, he said. I took a couple of steps further in the direction I was going and stopped and turned back to watch. He went to the other side of the tree closest to me, reached up, plucked a couple of small fruits and held them out to me. My eyes widen as I opened my hand as he dropped them inside my palm. They were the most perfectly round fruit I had ever seen. I turned them every which way, loo...
