As strange as it sounds, the winter fruit known as the persimmon will always remind me of my grandfather. Persimmons are vibrant orange in color and resemble an oblong tomato, typically peaking from October through January. Every winter, he would gather the yielded persimmons and deliver them to my family. He and my grandmother often enjoyed gardening together, one of the many laborious hobbies he filled his days with when he wasn’t working or running errands. He loved Vespas, his children and grandchildren, and his wife above all. He worked multiple jobs, was capable of fixing anything, and had a special type of humor I wholeheartedly appreciated. He was my best friend, often enjoying cups of tea together while watching Jeopardy or American Pickers. For those who were fortunate enough to know him, he was a man who lived to provide for those he loved. Even two years after he has passed, his persimmon tree continues to feed us with the fond memories of his life.
Persimmons testify to the age-old perception that patience reaps fruit with a sweetness that lingers longer than a fleeting moment. He taught my brother how to harvest them once the tree swelled with their radiant abundance. In honor of our grandfather, my brother carries on the tradition by picking them so we can continue to enjoy this underrated fruit during the sharp winter months when we all long for warm, comforting flavors. In a world numb by instant gratification, Next-Day Shipping, and mindless Tiktok scrolling, the persimmon poses a counterculture call for patience. Only when the fruit becomes overripe can you appreciate it for what it has to offer. Right off the tree, they are pulpy, bitter, and mouth-puckering. However, if you wait a week or two, the fruit slowly softens and caramelizes on the inside; the treacly goodness is then ready to be scooped out with a spoon and enjoyed like a bowl of custard.
While reflecting on all I set out to achieve, I always fall back on the lessons I learned from my closest loved ones who believed in the value of simplicity and patience. My connection to persimmons may seem unusual, but in my heart, they represent my grandfather's everlasting presence in my life. Despite his and my grandmother’s absence, subtle fragments of them piece me back together, reminding me that I am undoubtedly lucky to be a part of their legacy. While I may not be the best gardener myself, I am proud of my brother who is keeping this memory alive by harvesting the persimmons my grandfather once cared for. It may be challenging to reawaken old memories, but I hope you all take this holiday season to reflect on the importance of family and simple pleasures. Love abundantly, give generously, and be grateful always.
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Beautifully written!