As a child, a dark closet was the safest ground to play with my dolls. My mother was not a cruel woman, but she didn’t play, nor did she give room for anything other than work. She grew up in the aftermath of the Great Depression with a mother who gave two of her children away to an orphanage. Her mother couldn’t support the whole family after her husband died of melanoma.
There was no time for my mother to play as a child, and no child of hers would be allowed to be a child. Her fears kept her captive to the illusion that she created a loving home because we were well dressed, fed, and fearfully obedient.
My worst years were the three years that my older sister went to school before I was able to follow her. I can allow myself to see and feel the loneliness when my older sister was not there to buffer the emptiness. Judy coaxed me out of my isolation, but in her absence I wilted.
I was a serious adult when I was young, at least when I was in mother’s presence. What she could not control was how I traveled in my mind. And, since our family appeared well, I was well too. There was a safe routine each day of the week and it allowed a grounding of goodness.
I never thought much about our family life in the 1950’s. In all respects it was a life of routine and stability. At lunchtime during the school year my mother picked us up and brought us home for thirty minutes. Fifteen minutes were spent watching “Queen For A Day” with my sister in a large chair while she prepared Campbell’s soup and a cheese sandwich.
I loved the chewiness of the cheese and the steaming bowl of soup but my favorite moment was eating my fruit cocktail. It took my husband almost 40-years to realize I am a mono-eater. I eat one thing on my plate until it is gone and then I move on to the next most enjoyable portion. I always save my most favorite delight for the end.
This finale was furthered by the interaction with each fruit’s personality. The pears were easy going. So I ate them first. The grapes were the “policemen” of the crowd and always to be trusted. All was well if grapes were there. Seriously, they were always eaten last. The cherries were the most popular, the peaches were kind and usually to be trusted and the pineapples were odd but likeable. Thus, I knew the safety required with each lunch. Cherries and grapes were eaten last so that life would remain sweet and predictable.
It never occurred to me that this was not how anyone else ate lunch. I remember telling my husband about the personalities of my fruit and he looked at me with trepidation. I suspected he was configuring the new data into a diagnosis. When I told him I did the same with numbers his eyes widened in disbelief.
The nine’s were like the grapes, the policemen and “good guys” in the neighborhood. The fives were like the cherries, popular. The threes were peach-like and the rest of the numbers were pineapple and pear-ish. To this day, I love cherries more than any other flavor or fruit. Cherry lifesavers, dried cherries, frozen cherries, fresh cherries, and the last coke I had in 2005 was a cherry coke. (Thank God that it wasn’t the alphabet because reading would have been too complex).
I am aware that I, and everyone else who is “stable” create ways to remain intact and cogent.
I love that my four-year old self had the imagination to find comfort and play in fruit and numbers. She is a wild work of wonder; a lover of beauty and complexity. I needed kind fruit and safe numbers before and I need it more today.
Traveling through this life I sometimes wonder: “Jesus, were you in the fruit cocktail? Were you in the numbers?” I know he meets four-year olds in the imagination of play. I know he wants to be my greatest ‘grape’ and ‘cherry’. If that little one could find such delight with fruit, then what is keeping her sixty-six year old from the same play? If Jesus can show up in a fruitful young imagination, then to expect anything less of life, especially my life, is a consignment to the closet. As I ate my pear tonight, I smiled at my husband, he smiled back and asked: “What is the smile?” I simply said, “Good fruit.
Becky Allender lives on Bainbridge Island with her loving, wild husband of almost 40 years. A mother and grandmother, she is quite fond of sunshine, yoga, Hawaiian quilting and creating 17th Century reproduction samplers. A community of praying women, loving Jesus, and the art of gratitude fill her life with goodness. She wonders what she got herself into with Red Tent Living!
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I just love this. Thank you for giving us a peek into the mind of a delightful child who has grown and continues to grow into an amazing woman and role model. And I get every bit of this. Cherries all the way.
Julie, thank you. Cherries all the way is right! You encourage me always….Thank you.
Oh my… I never thought about the way I ate my fruit cocktail as a child … you took me back… yes … for sure the pears went first… and I remember always feeling dread getting ready to eat that last grape and cherry! I am just now realizing … joy and pleasure weren’t easily found in my childhood… I too lived in a very interior world… I think I savored my eating this delight to bring a quite joy! Now I want to eat some fruit cocktail! Thanks Becky!!!
Ro, hey….we are “sisters” and didn’t know it! Yay for grapes and cherries! You too! Amazing.
Becky, this was such a beautiful writing as you allowed us to peek into the imagination and mental tools of you as a child. I love that you assigned roles to your fruit cocktail and also to numbers. I had similar feelings about numbers, and I remember doing similar things with food as a child. Interestingly my father was similar to your mother. Idle time, or silliness was not tolerated by him. Life was serious and his children were not allowed to be lazy or silly. To this day, it is often hard to relax when others are relaxing. Habits and beliefs ingrained in us as children are often hard to break. Thank you for this glimpse into your younger life. Such a precious sharing.
Wow, Barbara, it IS amazing how ingrained habits and beliefs are and seem to guard us, guide us, and keep us from fully being joyful. Of course I am curious about your father….how old is ….and, you know, I am interested to know your numbers’ personalities! Thank you for taking the time to comment.
Becky, you are a jewel of surprises,
Thank you.
Marie
Marie….I love you! You are a jewel of surprises too….
I absolutely love this essay, Becky, and found myself smiling in enjoyment as I was introduced to each type of fruit. Honestly, I will never eat a piece of fruit the same way again, and the next time I have fruit cocktail…Well, I probably should eat some today by myself so I can “meet” each type of fruit with newfound attentiveness. What an interesting revelation you’ve shared here…how your young self found ways to find comfort and play. Your words returned to me a childhood memory of my own about my caregiving of a certain doll of mine, for which I’ve often felt silly. You have invited me to reinterpret that memory and affirm the young girl who was resourceful in caring for her deep need. Thank you. And finally, just a comment that your final line in this piece is utterly perfect.<3
Oh Susan…I would love to hear about your doll and how you cared for her. It seems it would reveal much about what you valued, needed and possibly not received. Thanks for your reply. (and compliment!).
I am struck by the simple innocence here. I love your tenacity in holding space for play and kind structure as a child. You were determined to add goodness to the serious world you found yourself in – you still do that with intention. May ‘good fruit’ follow you all the days of your life… 😊
Timari, thank you for your kind words. I sure do hope that “good fruit” will follow me all the days of my life (and yours too!).
I used to attribute certain numbers but more so letters of the alphabet to particular personalities and even looks. But I hadn’t ever before reading your essay thought of this as ‘Jesus meeting me in play,’ but it is clear now that that is just the way he first comes to children. He shows them pieces of love in the myriad ways we can play and let our imaginations stretch all the way to heaven, whether we do this in hiding or not. Great insight, Becky.
I am not sure who you are and I looked at your blog and loved it… Anyway, I loved your comment so much! Yes…Jesus “shows them pieces of love in the myriad ways we can play and let our imaginations stretch all the way to heaven, whether we do this in hiding or not.”
Amazing. Grateful. God, give me eyes and ears to see you…because, you are there.
Becky, this is beautiful. thank you! I love where you went with the theme this month. I admire this highly creative and resourceful little girl who discovered play and containment in the colors, shapes and textures found in a diverse bowl of fruit cocktail. This felt like a glimpse into the vivid, creative storyteller you are today. I deeply resonate with the notion of mind travel as a child. It was good for my heart to hear you bless it with such kindness. I developed elaborate alternate realities as a child to cope. Today, I am so thankful for the gift of my imagination. I love how you blessed your personification of your fruit and numbers and took me to the greater spirituality reality that was playing out between a brilliant little girl and her bowl of fruit cocktail. Btw, I love eating frozen cherries…pure delight!
Dear Rachel, Thank you. I love that we have both have wonderful imaginations and that we both love cherries! Thank you for taking the time to write and thank you for saying that I am a good storyteller!
I had such a huge smile on my face as I read this, particularly your description of the fruit’s personalities, and the reasoning for each – I love the way your mind works! Your stories are always unpredictable in all of the very best ways.
“I am aware that I, and everyone else who is “stable” create ways to remain intact and cogent.” This line holds so much goodness and heartache both. You were (and still are) incredibly resilient, and I am so very sad for that young girl who had to find safety and kindness in numbers and fruit. I would have loved playing with her, she sounds absolutely delightful!
Dear Janet, thank you. It seems the heart in us knows no age or time. When you wrote that you would have loved playing with her I felt chosen and joyful. I think we could have been friends but miles and time kept us apart. I am grateful that our paths came together ten years ago. Love and hugs across the many miles .