Watermelon

I was sitting with my wife at breakfast this bright summer morning, enjoying a meal of softly poached eggs atop homemade bread and a small bowl of watermelon chunks. The eggs and toast were delicious and we both ate in silence, relishing the tasty yoke juice intermingled with the golden-crunchy bread. We made lip smacking noises as we ate and didn't talk much, as was our usual morning meal ritual. I saved my watermelon chunks for last, imagining the light, nectar sweetness of the blushing red melon meat. After a couple bites I broke our morning silence and remarked, “This is seedless watermelon, isn't it?” My lovely wife nodded her head in ascent. I forked another chunk and removed it from the tines with my teeth. The fruit wasn't as sweet as I had imagined. “You know, if you take a moment to wonder, if there are no seeds, then how do they grow more seedless melon?” My wife refrained from answering, having been raised not to talk with her mouthful. A brash robin twittered outside. “I mean think about it hon, somebody came up with a way to make seedless watermelon. Why?” I paused to ponder my own question. “How many people actually complained about the seeds anyway? In some parts of the country don't they hold summer watermelon seed spitting contests? Or I seem to remember that in China or someplace, they toast the seeds and eat them. Seeds are very nutritious, probably even medicinal.” One of our dogs scratched at the door to go outside, I got up and let her out. My wife didn't offer any confirmations to my morning speculation. “I'll bet, somebody thought it'd be more convenient not to have to deal with seeds, spitting them out in an unmannered fashion or being forced to clean them up. Another somebody thought seedless watermelon would make a great ‘new and improved' marketing idea to sell more melon and make more profits.” I sat back down at our table and stabbed another red chunk of watermelon. My wife had started eating her bowl of fruit as well. “You know,” I started and my wife looked up at me from her bowl, “one might think the biologists and botanists would have more important things to do than to alter the natural process of vegetation, I mean like just for the heck of it. Seeds are very important. Why get rid of the seeds?” Another of our pets pulled herself from the floor, and wandered over to the door wanting to be released. I again got up and let her go. My wife was slurping spoonfuls of red juice from her bowl. I sat down and looked at my bowl. I shuffled a couple chunks around then pierced another bite and chewed on it. It had less taste than the last bite. It didn't seem to melt in my mouth anymore, but instead, needed to be masticated at length. “This kind of thing just leads people, especially the younger generations to think produce magically appears on the racks in grocery stores.” I was just about done with my bowl of morning fruit as my wife took her plate, bowl and utensils to the sink. “I guess this falls under the old adage, ‘just because you can, doesn't mean you should.' I don't know why we humans have to continually complicated things.” My wife brushed by me on my way to the sink and casually mentioned over her shoulder as she walked to the room we call our library, “It's your turn to do the dishes, isn't it hon?” I love my wife, she's so uncomplicated.

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