I can’t tell you about the first time I ever let the sweet sticky juice of a pineapple run down my fingers tips because I don’t remember.
But what I can tell you about is the first time I ever craved that sweet island fruit
We we’re broke. The kind of broke that makes you want to curl up & cry for days. And sometimes we did just that. No matter what we did or how we cut our expenses we were always struggling to make it until the next paycheck.
And then I peed on a stick.
Pregnancy doesn’t come cheap and the simple food cravings of a pregnant woman can really add up.
And something as simple as a pineapple can bring tears.
I made it through most of my first trimester free of the chains that keep most women bound to the toilet. I was able to enjoy food & enjoy it I did. In the beginning of my pregnancy I craved baked potatoes. The rustic brown skin bathed in olive oil and coated with a heavy kosher salt and then dressed in the finest store brand aluminium foil we could afford . I would savor every single soft bite of those delicious baked potatoes as the butter dribbled down my lips. I couldn’t get enough.
And then one day my cravings started to shift. I started to yearn for something sweet. Something wet & juicy. In my mind’s eye I saw what I was now craving. I could picture myself sitting at the table with a thick triangle-shaped piece of pineapple, the juice dripping down my arm as I enjoyed the sweet flavor.
I could smell the sweet goodness of that island fruit. I could feel the juice running down the back of my throat. I could envision myself slicing into a pineapple, eating the entire fruit, and then drinking the last few drops of juice that had collected at the bottom of the bowl.
I wanted a pineapple. I needed a pineapple. My body craved a pineapple.
The day my craving started, Shawn called me to check in. I begged him to make a stop at the grocery store for my sweet treat. He asked how much it would cost and I said “Can’t be anymore then a few dollars”. What I did not know was that a few dollars was all we had to get us until the next payday which was still several days away.
When Shawn walked through the front door of our apartment that evening I jumped off the couch, knife in hand ready to slice into that small piece of tropical heaven.
But there was no pineapple. Instead, he held a small can of generic brand pineapple juice.
“I’m sorry babe. The pineapple was $5 and I need to get gas tomorrow. This was all I could get”
I tried to hide my disappointment from him, I knew how hard he worked and that if he could buy me a whole pineapple farm he would. So I masked my desire for that sweet fruit and I took the small container of juice from his hands I told him “Oh, this will do just fine, thank you”.
But the truth was, it wouldn’t do. I was expecting the sweet tropical stickiness of a pineapple and instead I tasted cold metal.
For days he apologized to me and I worked hard to assure him that the craving for the sweet island fruit was gone. Of course the craving wasn’t really gone because cravings don’t disappear until you have satisfied them and mine had not been satisfied. But I didn’t want him to feel like he had failed me, so I pretended the best I could that the small can of juice had fulfilled my craving.
After a week or two had gone by, payday finally arrived and we begin planning our bi-weekly trip to Chipotle was.
That night Shawn surprised me. He walked in the door with a pineapple in hand.
I cut into that delicious yellow pineapple and I savored every bite of that island fruit. I was satisfied.
This week, we’d like for you to write about your favorite fresh fruit or vegetable. Share a memory of when you first tasted it, where it came from, when you last had it, a favorite way to prepare it, and such. As you write your piece this week, think of it as writing a scene. Be sure to engage our senses, make us feel, see, taste, hear, and smell. Pull us in with your description.