Strawberry Field Laughter
Strawberries hold a nostalgic place within my memories of a childhood spent reveling in familial love. All families have their favorite collection of ‘stories’ and we were no exception. Every year we would fondly retell the adventures of our Mom and my big brother driving to the strawberry fields to pick fruit in early summer.
Filled with much anticipation, they drove onto the farmer’s road and made their way towards the fields. There was only one thing standing between them and the picking fields, namely a herd of cows. My mother tried everything to get them to move along, everything except getting out of the car to shoo them away.
Exasperated, my Mother finally implored my brother to try and clear the roadway. Gleeful at the opportunity to engage with the cows, my brother leaped out of the car and eagerly approached the mooing herd. Mind you, my brother was a young 10 years of age who had not remotely approached his growing spurt – he stood no taller than below the cow’s shoulders. But he was so brave in wanting to come to my Mother’s apparent rescue. Oh, he did make some bovine friends that day and they dutifully listened as my brother moved them off the roadway. And with gusto, my brother and Mother were now free to set out picking strawberries deep within the fields.
That evening as we sat at the dinner table and took our first bites into Mom’s strawberry delight, every bite seemed to come alive and burst with flavor, like never before. My Mother recounted the adventures of my brother’s cow herding chivalry and laughter filled the air. My pint-sized brother was a hero and hence was the beginning of the strawberry legacy – a story we tell fondly, about this very time of year. That laughter still lingers in the air … I suppose it always will.
© Baidha Fercoq
Response to our Inspiration Call on June 15, 2018
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