The Mango Theft

Sometimes something very small can mean so much to one person, while it remains unimportant to another. So who's to say which is better.

 “It’s gone!” I exclaimed in horror from the lanai.

 

“What are you talking about” My spouse responded indifferently from the living room?

“My mango. It’s gone!”

 

“You’re not making any sense.” He walked to the lanai to see what all the fuss was about.

“My solitary mango from that tree we planted last year. I’ve been watching that little tree and babying it since we planted it.

 

“You’re being ridiculous. That ‘thing’ was no bigger than a tennis ball. It probably wouldn’t have been edible if it had been allowed to grow up to be an adult.”  He chided.

Living in Southwest Florida for fifteen years, we stopped growing anything outside. We did have a thriving herb garden inside the house. Between the bugs, the summer heat and the poor soil, we resolved to buy whatever was in season and skip the expense and time it took to nurture a "fruitless" cause.

 

Our local nursery had a sale on fruit trees last fall and in a moment of weakness; we decided to adopt a mango tree. A spontaneous experiment in futility. The odds were in our favor because mango trees grew well in our tropic climate

 

“You don’t get it.” My voice was coming down by octaves as I continued my dirge “That lonely piece of fruit was a symbol a hope, a dream, my responsibility. It’s been taken from me before it’s time.”

 

“There will be others. Besides, the first fruit of a tree’s life is usually premature. Next year there will be thirty times that amount.” I could tell that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously.

 

 I began to take the crisis in stride but I was not happy. I saw my husband’s point of view, but I couldn’t let him get away by dropping the subject that easily.

 

I found the remains of my mango later that day. As expected, a squirrel pilfered the goods. The existing fruit had been carefully removed through a hole. Skin peeled back then devoured and tossed hap-hazardously into the street on its’ quick getaway after the dastardly dead was complete.

 

My husband was correct, as usual, there were many more fruit to take the place of that first mango, but a mother never forgets her first.

 

Author's Note

I welcome all reviews, that's what I need to get better. Thank you in advance.

Reviews

[A. Amos]

Good enjoyable read and I truly loved the message...

[vaishnavi]

its really good
nicely said and depicted
keep it up