I was cutting up a watermelon today to juice with Jorge. No, not in season but a good price. One can only wonder why? A juicer mind, apart from the centre of the watermelon. Jorge and I were picking only the nicest bits and enjoying them and juicing the rest. I suddenly remembered a story my mother would often tell. She was holidaying on Brampton Island off Mackay, and there was this fellow who was sweet on her (before my father). In fact, he was so sweet on her, he cut a whole watermelon and gave her the centre. The regret was palpable... kneadable. I wonder at the obviousness of this metaphor for love. I do wonder if my father, or in fact my partner, would ever do the same.
I often wondered why my mother had not married this man who offered her such a wondrous gift.