Bananas.

Image

I have a sort of morning ritual. I say sort of because depending on the day, and the demands, it might change. It usually consists of my waking up and attempting to spend at least 10 minutes in a quiet stillness (to which I often fail miserably), followed closely by my adventuring into the kitchen. Hot water meets mason jar meets Irish Breakfast Tea is the first stop on my morning-train, then it's usually on to the preparation of whatever food-goodness is going to grace my tummy (hello maple-staple-breakfast-bowl).

This morning as I halved a banana to top my bowl, I was reminded of something that made me smile. You know the end of the banana? the part that usually has that little hard dark part? I've always avoided it. As long as I can remember - I also remember, though, my mother looking at me incredulously when I told her I didn't wanna eat it.

It seemed to me as if she was confused as to why I would want to waste a perfectly good part of a banana, so instead, she smiled and broke off the end and ate it herself.

I don't know why that stuck with me, and still to this day, cozies up to my heart when I eat bananas but it does. and it leaves me thankful. thankful for a momma who left me with memories and smiles.

I ate the end today, and it wasn't good.