The Pear

The Pear
A couple of high-pitched squeals woke me from my afternoon nap.
I opened my window to see my neighbor loading her three girls into her mini van.
The oldest one shouted up to me, "Guess what? Mama is taking us to McDonald's!"
From all the excitement you would have thought they were on their way to Disneyland.
This really was a rare occasion. She prided herself on raising her girls on all things healthy.
The youngest was accustomed to biting into a tomato just like an apple. They never batted an eye to a veggie burger on a wheat bun or that mysterious substance called tofu.
In a way, I felt a little sorry for them.
Two of my best friends growing up were Oreos and Doritos. Boy, we really had some good times.
My pity went into overdrive the day her oldest came home from school in tears.
On Fridays the students were allowed to swap snacks brought from home.
" Mama, nobody wants to trade for my pear", she cried.
At that time I was too immature to realize that she was teaching her a lesson.
A lesson that may have been too difficult for a 12 year old, much less for myself.
I was in my late 30's;
now it all makes sense.
The fruit we bear cannot be appreciated by those who are accustomed to a diet of junk food.
Fortunately, I said good bye to my childhood friends a long time ago.
Now, I carefully choose those with whom I share my fruit and I can only hope her daughter does as well.