by Jeanette Cheezum

Created on: May 08, 2010   Last Updated: June 07, 2010

Strawberry Field

Grandpa had a huge strawberry patch. We helped till the garden, and plant on one acre of his property. We always went over to pick the red delicious berries the  first week he opened and helped at his roadside stand.

My twelve year old daughter was the first to sneak a bite, thinking I hadn’t noticed.On one particular morning she reached down to grab another morsel of delight while trying not to stain her new white shorts. Now concentrating on a particular plant that had some extremely large berries she put two in the pail and then stopped to take a bite. Melinda stretched the full length of her arm when a rabbit leapt toward  her face. Letting out a scream, she slipped and her flip flops and the strawberry flew up in the air as she fell in the middle of the patch.

“Oh, Mama, I need something to cover my bottom, my shorts are ruined and I have to walk back up the field with stains on my backside; there are boys over there and they’ll laugh at me.” Without animmeia response she became impatient, "Tommy, I’ll give you first choice of dessert,” she said.

The corners of his mouth turned up, “Not my problem,” He said.

“Tommy, get your sister a towel, so we’ll be able to leave the field with dignity and a story to pass on for years,” I chuckled.

“Let her suffer.” He teased and ran to the car.

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