Mango #11

Mom was right. There, on my right, was a growing pile of sweet-smelling, freshly-peeled, plump yellow mangoes. Albeit some with angular pieces of flesh missing, not one fruit went to the bin whole.

The knife reveals more than we can ascertain at first. Some small bruises were only the signs of bigger ones within. But some with blackened skin had beautiful flesh to unveil.

“Don’t cut so much off first! Slowly! You’ll waste the good parts.” She kept yelling at me.

It’s tedious work. But here’s a lesson in believing: In the end, there’s always more to enjoy.