Apricots

Taste of a ripe apricot,

warm and sweet,

reminds me of the day

we buried my grandmother Ella

in 1989.

Aunty Lorraine picked these luscious fruits

in the early morning

before she left home for the funeral -

they were still warm from sitting in the car.

Standing up

in the kitchen of Aunty Joy’s house

I bit into one apricot -

juice ran down my chin.

The taste was exquisite

- so sweet,  ripe and tasty -

just how an apricot should always be.

The memory of those apricots

has set me on a quest

to find again the perfect apricot.

After 24 years

I have yet to find it.

6.10.13