While sitting in my back yard the other day, watching the sun drift slowly down to the horizon as my beloved dogs destroyed stuffies on the lawn, I was reveling in how sweet my life has become. It’s every bit as sweet as the fresh organic cherries that I was eating.

In Florida the cherries were not nearly as good. They probably have to be picked slightly unripe in order to be shipped there intact. I had no idea cherries were meant to taste the way they can here in the Pacific Northwest, just as I had no idea life could be this good when I was sweltering in the conservative cultural backwater of ignorance that was Jacksonville, Florida (at least that’s how it seemed to me).

Come to think of it, cherries are a microcosm of life on many levels. You can have three of them, side by side, each as plump and red and beautiful as its neighbor, and yet, when you eat the first one, it will be bitter. The next will have no taste whatsoever. But the third… ah, the third! It will be so appealing and juicy and delicious that it will give you the impetus to try more.

The thing is, you never know which cherry you’re going to get. You just have to keep trying, never give up, and hope for the best. And when you are rewarded with that perfect cherry experience, the bitter or bland ones will suddenly seem to have been worth it.

Life isn’t a bowl of cherries. It’s a series of cherries, one after the other– good, bad, or indifferent. I can live with that level of hope and contentment. I’m just glad I’m now in a place where the odds are even more in my favor.



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