Friends are Electric

I have not seen a strawberry in 13 years. But I recall the day. It was a warm, early summer day. Not hot like we get now, just pleasant. I was walking with my mother and brothers on a dirt road. On the side of the road were strawberry vines. We looked and looked and finally found some.

Real strawberries, my friends, are tiny.

These strawberries were no larger than a centimetre in diameter. But the taste was perfection. Sweet and tart in an ideal ratio to produce the most wonderous experience for your taste buds.

I have not seen a strawberry since. I’ve seen a cousin of theirs who has forgotten how to be a strawberry. I mourn for these hopeless fruit every time I see them.

They have forgotten what it is to be what they are.