Monday, July 30, 2012

Banana Strings to My Heart

It’s interesting how an inane task can evoke poignant memories, and somewhat strange that the same memory may not hit you every time you perform that inane task.  

For example, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sliced a banana onto a bowl of cereal.  Take the box from the cabinet over the fridge, grab a bowl, pour in the cheerios, peel the banana, get a paring knife out of the deadly knife drawer, slice plump coin sized pieces of banana onto a toasty mound of whole grain cereal, pour on the cold milk and you’re good to go. Yummy! 

This morning however, as I peeled the banana, strings detached from the peel and dangled from the fruit; memories flooded into my mind of a nanosecond in time shared with my father years ago.  As we stood side by side at the kitchen counter preparing our breakfast, we each peeled a banana, but as I was slicing, dad was carefully removing the strings.  I watched him for a minute, as he meticulously stripped them away one by one, it was apparent he really didn’t even want to touch them.  I chuckled and asked him what he was doing, and without losing his focus he said, “I hate the banana strings, they’re bitter”.  So, being the teenager I was I just rolled my eyebrows and made a mental note that dad was weird. 

As I stood at the same kitchen counter that I stood at on that morning so many years ago, I chuckled to myself, lovingly thought of my dad and meticulously removed the offending banana strings.


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