The Art of Apple-Eating

Almost every day, without fail, dad packs my brown lunch bag for me. Because he does this after I leave for seminary at 5:30 every morning, the only way to get such delightful concoctions to me before fifth period is for Bek to bring the bag to school, leave it in her locker, and supply me with the combo. We are systematic and excellent. I’m really grateful for this because 1) I don’t have to think about what to make for lunch or where to find it, or worry about having enough time to come home and bag something myself 2) Dad is able to vent his creative thoughts food-wise. 3) I get a peek into the life of Beka, hidden inside of her locker, every morning at 11:05 (but I don’t go looking around). Happily, I’ve found my lined piece of paper birthday sign that I made for Bek in September, still hung up. …and 4) It’s a daily reminder about how much my dad loves me. As I crunch into my red and gold-speckled, firm-skinned apple, I explore the art of apple-eating. There must be an art. Apples are so beautiful and wholesome that there must be the perfect way to eat them. So I’ve been trying to experiment. Do you eat around the outside of the apple, in one straight line, until you meet the newly opened apple-inside? Do you eat the entire skin until the apple is browning and unhappy? Or, or, do you dig in down to the core and then rotate? As I ponder these questions, I sit across the unhappy people at the table while they are sprayed by my apple juice. I smile because there are still bits of apple skin stuck in the corners of my teeth, and make weird movements with my tongue trying to unstick the apple remains. October is national apple month.