Sunday, August 5, 2007

Rushing to Paradise


On Thursday I did something I haven’t done for years and years. Hub and I, and ED (eldest daughter) spent the afternoon on a large secluded property where we picnicked and walked the dogs. And after lunch on a quick hike ED and I picked what we could of blueberries calling out to us as we threaded our way down crude horse trails.

Hub, of course, picked no berries for the pail. He has a problem, always has, always will, that when he gets a handful of berries, his elbow bends and his mouth flies open. ED tried to trick him by slipping our pail as close as possible to him and saying, “you’re going to drop those soon if you don’t empty your hand,” but all to no avail. Again the elbow would bend as if to drop them in the pail and then of course the mouth would fly open and that would be the end of that.

But I digress. What I wanted to tell you is that when I got home and cleaned my meager three cups of wild berries Hub wanted them fresh with ice cream. But I couldn’t do it. Something was pushing me to do jam. Silly thought with so few berries. But I had four apples in the fridge so I peeled and diced them to make more fruit. And a while later I had two small jars and a desert dish of fresh jam. When it cooled I buttered some fresh home-made bread, made a cup of tea, and slathered my jam on that bread.

Now this is where words fail me. How can I begin to describe the pleasure of sinking teeth and lips into that jam? I fought brutally against that first overwhelming desire to cram it all in one great gigantic wad into my mouth. I must savor it all – take it little by little.

I sniffed the delicate aroma. So soft and sweet and barely discernible. The color – as beautiful as sapphires blended with navy skies. A sparkling blue that has yet to be duplicated in a world with 11,070,014 colors and 854 shades of blue and 4 falsely labeled ‘blueberry’ blue.

I took a bite and pressed it against the top of my mouth allowing it to fornicate with my tastebuds in that small dark space. I moved it to the back of my throat and succumbed to its caress. With no will of mind involved, it stroked my mind, my throat, my tongue, my heart, and pressed delicately through every vein. My life flashed before me. Childhood, games, hikes, special moments, a dear Mother, and all blessings that followed me, descended on me, visited me, and harbored me.

But then when I swallowed it, something quite unexpected happened. I felt it working, resolving that business of the food anxiety I’ve had for far too long. That rotating and disturbing thought of need and want. Of standing confused and undecided in front of a fridge door that offers nothing that appeals to me. Chronic hunger without knowing what I crave. Eternal longing for something nameless. But with that first swallow of wild blueberry jam, I knew immediately this is what I longed for, this is what I craved. This was the emptiness within.

It felt so good, feeling it doing its work of tenderness and benevolence. Blowing new life into healthy cells and crushing malicious ones. Rushing at a mad frictionless-pace through every physical and emotional atom of my body and renewing it. Redemptive deliverance.

Oh God – give me more!

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

Okay, so now you understand why Hub eats while he picks. Perhaps he's just too shy to explain his emotive state the way you are able to do so well.

susan @ spinning

Kay Dennison said...

I think we all want more of the good things -- we humans are greedy that way. Memories are sometimes the best we can muster. This was a day you can take out and recall on a day that isn't quite so pleasant and it will give you succor.

Joy Des Jardins said...

You have succeeded in making me crave blueberry jam...among other things. This piece was a delicious tidbit Roberta.

Oh...you may want to stop by my place and take a peek at my latest post.

Matty said...

Roberta,
I'm with Hub on this one! I love them fresh without milk or cream. Just sit and snack..what a wonderful treat on a summer day.
Have a good week.

Roberta S said...

Hi susan, that is a solid point I never considered. I guess I'm always assumed Hub is too practical to have an 'emotive state' (chuckle). But your comment made me realize that even 'practicality' says eat what is offered, when it is offered, while it is offered.

Roberta S said...

Hi kay. Welcome. I like to think my memories are the luxuries that I can afford (rather than cruises or exotic vacations) and yes, you are right -- I'll keep this in my hip pocket for a downer day. I just hope when that day comes that I don't burst into inconsolable tears over 'want of more booberries'!

Do visit again, somethimes it is lonely around here.

Roberta S said...

Hi joy, glad I made you drool. I did stop at your place and see what you were up to, and my goodness girl, with such flattery, here I sit frantically smoothing our my hair, neatening the folds in my housecoat and running to put on a bra while wiping blueberries off my face. I feel truly honored. Thanks so much.

Roberta S said...

Hi matty, all I can say with all good humor is good thing you weren't in that berry patch with us. I can see it already -- you standing over the patch you are saving to share with Hub and him standing guard over the patch he plans to share with you...and nothing for my little pail. ;)

Anne said...

I feel so deprived. Never had homemade jam in my life. Think i had homemade bread once when i was little, though.

Joy Des Jardins said...

Oh Roberta....don't you dare change a thing....come as you are! ~Joy

Pauline said...

standing in front of the fridge with that nameless craving and finding no wild blueberry jam...don't lock the door, I'm coming up

Roberta S said...

Oh anne, that is deprivation to an excruciating extreme. Hugs for you, anne. Warm loving hugs.

I'd send 'jam' but it would probably take months to complete the sticky business of a 'jam passport' -- so, dear girl, hugs will have to do.

Roberta S said...

Hurry, scurry, pauline, my stash is receding fast. (slurp)