the strawberry story

Some of you read this story in one of our recent family updates. But, for those of you who don't get our updates, I wanted to post it to the blog for your reading enjoyment:

Crystelle (our 6 year-old) and I planted strawberries in a planter box on our balcony back in April. For nearly two months, nothing happened. Then, sometime in early June, a little sprout popped its head up out of the soil. A few weeks later, a second sprout popped out. Although we were excited to have some evidence of life, we didn't have much hope that we'd actually have strawberries by the end of the summer.

As the summer weeks passed by, we watched these little guys grow into small plants, and our hopes started to grow along with them. Then, in August, one of the plants flowered, and by the end of August, we could see the evidence of our first little strawberry beginning to emerge. We couldn't believe it! We were so excited! As the strawberry grew, two other buds appeared and gave way to two little green strawberry babies.

The first week of September, our first strawberry began to turn red. We were ecstatic! We might actually get to eat a strawberry from our own strawberry plant. For those of you who know anything about Annie and my gardening skills, you will understand why this seemed like such a phenomenon to us. We have never planted anything that has ever lived long enough to yield an edible product!

One week later, we were having breakfast and Crystelle said, "Look dad! The strawberry looks ready to eat!" I took a closer look and, sure enough, that strawberry was plump and ripe and tempting. Still, I could see one little spot where it was a tad bit pink, and so I said, "Let's give it one more day. We'll divide it up tomorrow morning at breakfast." Everyone was excited about the idea of dividing this tiny strawberry among the 5 of us!

That afternoon, we were coming home from school and one of the neighbor boys who is in Micah's class, Théo, asked if he could come over to play. I told his dad that we could keep Théo at our place until about 6 P.M. So, we headed for our apartment and the boys immediately got into superhero dress-ups. I sat down at my desk to go through some mail, and everything seemed to be going fine until Micah came running into my room shouting, "Théo ate the strawberry!"

My initial shock turned to a brief moment of internal rage, which then yielded itself to a helpless and profound sadness. As I made my way through the apartment to the balcony, I could see Théo with a big grin on his face and a bit of strawberry juice streaming down his chin. Crystelle came running. She took one look at the strawberry plant that was now void of its treasure (Théo had also picked the next largest strawberry on the plant leaving only one little green strawberry clinging for dear life) and she burst into tears.

I didn't know what to do or what to say. I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry with Crystelle. Instead I just held her in my arms for awhile as my body temperature cooled back down to normal, and as the violent thunder storm in my head dissipated. I gently explained to Théo, who was very confused about what the problem was, why Crystelle was crying. He shrugged his shoulders and ran off to find a nerf sword with which to attack Micah, who was dressed up as Mr. Incredible.

A few hours later, as I recounted the story to Annie, we had a good laugh together over how much that little strawberry meant to our family. The loss of that little strawberry was like the death of a family pet. It was tragic in a way that, to some, might seem absurd. But it had been a little object of hope for us through the summer months. We had talked about it, dreamed about it, watched its birth and growth with great interest, and anticipated its ripening as much as we might anticipate the coming of a birthday or the visit of a dear family member.

In a split second, this little treasure had been violently picked and popped into the mouth of a 4 year-old boy that had no idea of its immense value and importance. Our family would not have simply eaten that little strawberry. We would have ceremoniously partaken of it as the achievement of a once-thought unachievable goal.

Fortunately, in the wake of this mindless and heinous act, one surviving strawberry was left. Even as I type, it is ripening on the vine. It should only be a matter of days now before we painstakingly remove it from its housing, carefully divide it into tiny morcels, and consume it together in celebration of our accomplishment. And this week, we are receiving no visitors!