This is from this fall. Been processing it.

Summer’s faded into autumn.

It’s my favorite time of the year. Pretty sweaters, cozy lazy dresses and brisk, cool weather. It’s the end of the watermelon season, too.

Watermelon isn’t my favorite. I mean, I love it when it’s sweet and convenient. But it’s a lot of work to cut up, so expensive when someone does it for you, and I don’t always pick well. Still, I mean I like it and all.

There’s a big bowl of it on the table.

“I thought I was okay with 50/50, but I’m not,” says the oldest. “I don’t want to ever go back there with her.”

“Me, either!” the youngest exclaims.

“Really?” The oldest is surprised. She didn’t think she had that in common with her little sister.

“Do you want to know how much I hate her?,” the youngest proclaims, her eyes nearly sparkling.

“No!” We all respond, synchronized, an automatic response, conditioned. We’ve all heard this kind of thing before, best to shut down the subject before it ends in tears and hysterics. Though, well, she’s never said that. But, you know. Kids say things, right?

“I want to give her watermelon.”

She smiles, satisfied.

They love watermelon. It’s not always easy to get them to eat healthy or for all of them to agree on something being tasty, but they actually do pretty well. And they devour watermelon like you wouldn’t believe.

But, you see, she can’t eat it. Fortunately, she didn’t pass that on to them. I see her in their appearance…in some traits I despise…some I even admire. But they’re not allergic to watermelon. Thank God for small mercies. She, on the other hand, is deathly allergic.

Just another thing in a string of many little things.

It’s no big deal. Just one of many little things. She likes Desperate Housewives and the suburbs. They like the city and talk about moving back when they grow up. She likes people who talk about cars and ice cream. They like Marvel and anime and talking about history and people who annoy them. She thinks that’s all stupid. Which is fair. I think reality TV is stupid. To each their own.

But I wish she and they just liked watermelon.

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