I could smell them almost immediately when I walked in the entrance. The small and radically fresh strawberries crammed into their signature green plastic cartons. I’ve been waiting such a long time for them.
Summer had finally arrived at the grocery store.
I know that it stings Shawn that they cost a little bit extra than the super plump strawberries from who knows where in the US but it annoys me that sometimes when we bite into those ones, you often wonder if they were still supposed to be “cooking” when they were picked. Ack, they’re so pale and tasteless. But these ones picked in our area are the real deal. I’d gladly pay the extra for locally grown. Shut up cashier who smashes my bread and sighs when I can’t bag my items fast enough because I’m crippled, take my money. I want all the strawberries.
They remind me of when I was little.
I do have good memories of my childhood you know. I loved summer and my dresses that my mom had made for me. From what I was told, I’d spend quite some time picking out the most perfect dress that had the most perfect fan when I twirled.
Then I’d take off into the “back 40” as we called it. It was a massive field that lined our entire neighbourhood. All of us kids would meet there eventually. We’d play out there until the sun would go down.
Best part about the 1980’s: NO PARENTS.
I’m sure that they poked their heads out when one of us whimpered or said something we shouldn’t have or made a loud breaking-of-the-thing-noise.
Parent’s have good ears.
It was the strawberries though that I remember.
They grew wild in the “back 40”. They were very tiny but very sweet. We would lay on our bellies to find them. It didn’t take long before the “back 40” was picked clean. When we came home, our fingers were stained red from plucking the berries and the bottoms of our feet were splotched in shades of red, green, brown – whatever it is we ran through or climbed on. We rarely wore shoes. If we did, they always came off because they just got in the way.
Probably in the way of twirling.
Anyway, they paved over the “back 40” many years ago. Tore down our tree fort which really wasn’t much of anything but a board thrown up into a massive willow tree. It had a tire stuck in the muddy ditch that we thought was super cool to sit on and talk about how awful it was to not be able to watch horror movies or shave our legs at the age of 6. True story.
The neighbour’s decks overlook my mom’s yard – tower it practically.
I hope that they know that they ruined my strawberries.