Stewed or Sautéed

A silly little story I wrote before homeroom in junior year.

Winston sat, as usual, on the edge of his son’s bed. “You know, son,” Winston exclaimed suddenly. “Life is like an onion.”

“An… onion?” asked the bewildered boy, taken aback.

“Yes. Think about it: onions have layers, just like life does. The center of the onion symbolizes your birth; the first layer is your childhood; then your adolescence and so on. Onions are also naturally bitter, so much so that they usually make people cry when they cut one. Life is like that too: if you have a bad day and your bills are overdue and your car is totaled and you lose your job…” Winston broke off and paused to take a few deep breaths, then resumed.

“But anyway. Life can be very bitter, just like onions are. At the same time, though, if onions are cooked for long enough, they become sweeter. Like… like… when I married your mother, or when you were born. Those were almost… caramelized events in my life. And they, onions I mean, can be very interesting or very boring: they can add a plain type of flavor to your hamburger or a zesty tang to a gourmet dish. And really, humans can live lives like that too. Austere or extravagant. Full of success… or failure and depression…” Winston stopped, contemplating this. After several seconds, however, the listener had had enough.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

The five-year-old child regarded his father with complete seriousness.

“Tell me a different story tomorrow night.”

Reviews

[windmill]

Har. This is cute.

Little kids are so honest.
Yep.