Originally written on August 16, 2021
I want to dream about ease. Picking strawberries on a warm summer day. Fingers stained. Belly full. Surrounded by my family. Celebrating when there’s a full bucket or a large ruby red gem. I sneak them in my mouth. I sink my teeth in the them like a slow hydraulic press until my molars touch through the juicy flesh. It drips down my throat and down my chin. I wipe all the evidence away with the back of my hand. Rub my hands on my shorts. I’m 8. I’m pulling this dream from my past. My reality. The savored summer memory of picking berries in PEI. I used to think about it and look forward to it every summer. It was exciting. I got to ride in the back of a pick up truck on wooden benches someone had installed. We would bring giant buckets to fill. They would weigh the containers going in and going out to determine how much it would cost. My dad would always quip “It’s a good thing they don’t weigh the kids.” We ate more berries than we picked. I’m sure there’s a term for that in the u-pick biz. I couldn’t resist. Rows and rows of the most flavorful vibrant berries I’d ever seen. Those summer trips were some of my favorites. When I was too young to be awkward just a bit shy. Too excited to be embarrassed. I didn’t really know who I would be and I hadn’t been boxed in yet. The dramatic one who loves attention. The weird one that doesn’t like seafood. The loud one who doesn’t stop talking. The ungrateful one. Too much. I’m not sure if any of that is true but it’s how I felt. Before those feelings came seeping in there were summers spent picking strawberries under the warm sun. Not far from the ocean. Running out of the car and into the porch to show my Grandmother what I had accomplished. Tangible, red, juicy accomplishments. We’d have a bowl of sliced berries with a spoonful of cool whip and maybe a slice of sponge cake. I felt proud. I made this happen. We stopped picking berries. I’m not sure when but we did. We stopped doing things together because it was easier to be apart. Maybe some day we’ll pick berries again.
