Tuesday, August 3, 2010
A Lesson Learned from Blueberries
You know how you can look at a pint of blueberries -- their deep blue skins covered in the sparkles of freshly washed goodness -- and literally your mouth waters with the anticipation of biting into the first one. And every single one after, nearly the same as the one before. Then you spot a slightly green one and you pull back and go, "Ewwww, not eatin' that one."
Mason doesn't do this. If he sees a green one -- and I have literally seen him do this -- he'll coo with unabashed admiration and sing, "Oh pretty a colorful one." Then he'll carefully pinch it out of the bunch and turn it over and over as he inspects its green glory.
He sees color. More over, he sees differences in color and he rejoices in the diversity. Perhaps because he is Mason. Perhaps because he is a child. All I know is I don't see things the way he does. I hope he never changes. When is it, exactly, that we start seeing differences with disgust?
Only trouble is, he feels the same way about dirty bath water.