Sunday, October 01, 2017
Sunday Reflection: The simple joy of an apple
It was kind of a stressful week. I am writing a casebook for criminal law, and it can be intense work. There were some crises for a few of my students this week to deal with. There are times I feel like a not-so-great teacher.
In the middle of the afternoon, though, I usually pull out an apple. It's a beautifully constructed thing, the size of my hand, smooth and glossy. It isn't perfect, of course; it grew on a tree and then fell on the ground, after all. There is a bruise here or there, a bit of dirt to clean off. But beautiful and perfect are very different.
On one of those hard days, I eat the apple slowly. I bite into it deep, and the sound is gorgeous-- the crunch as the flesh gives way to my teeth. I chew it slowly; the skin is different than the inside, and I relish them both, rolling it under my tongue. I work my way around the middle, then to the ends, first the bottom and then the top. Why? I have no idea. But I do it that way, always.
And then I smile. It's kind of a remarkable thing, after all. I am lucky, and happy, and full of this creation's bounty.
