Perfectly Ripe

There will come a day when you come across the splendor of eating the most perfectly ripe avocado. Taste, texture, smell, the size and ease with which you machete the pit into the blade to retrieve the globe of a seed. Guacamole would have been far too tragic a burden were it to have come to that end. There will never be a more amazing avocado. You slice it like you normally do, but there is something different. Something profoundly simple, straight, soft, round, dense yet approachable. You look at the other avocados in the batch and think, okay, they are all perfect right now, but an hour from now one might be too soggy, soft. By tomorrow the others would begin to brown past perfection. You might try to put the avocados in the fridge, the small one on the outdoor veranda, the only outdoor kitchen you can remember cooking in. You might seek out an avocado tree yourself, to plunder its limbs over years, to measure the seasons and humidity and begin a quest like a vineyard owner, to quest for the long count recipes involved in the organic birthing of avocados. You might.

You wonder at what point in your life this avocado will make its way into and then out of your life.

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