A Real Peach

For years I’ve held on to a belief that I don’t like peaches. The reality is though that I don’t remember ever trying them. Maybe there were peaches in one of those canned fruit cocktails we got in school. I remember that I used to just eat the grapes. I don’t remember having peaches at home growing up. I don’t believe the peach is a tropical fruit, so they wouldn’t have been easy to come by. My dad though, loved peaches. Maybe he had them while he was attending college in Louisiana. Every time he came to visit us he would pick up a handful of peaches at the store if they were in season.

When I was in the grocery store this week I saw a display of fresh peaches in the produce section and put one in my cart. Just one. What if I really didn’t like them? I didn’t want to get stuck with a bunch of peaches. Today after I finished my ham and cheese sandwich for lunch I had my first peach.

I liked it. I didn’t love it though. It was just OK. What I liked most about it was the contrast as it was sitting on my cutting board. At least now I know, right?

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