my first introduction to persimmons was you.

 

half of my DNA extracted, your genetic language decoded into me.

 

of course, persimmons weren’t the only fruit i remember disassembled onto a plate, 

but it was surely my favorite.

 

did you know that persimmons only fruit 3 months out of the year? 

did you know that those months were my favorites?

 

in my memories, persimmons were a summer fruit. bright, sunny days presented a peace offering 

in rich shades of orange, a familiar sight i had loved so many times.

 

i wouldn’t even need to ask, and there it would be. 

“nini, there are some fruits for you. persimmon.” 

simple. easy.

that was love.

 

do i thank you enough? do you know?

tirelessly working in the kitchen to make sure the fruits were cut to a beautiful specification. 

no matter how fast they were gone, or how many were still left in the bowl, you always offered more.

 

you never stopped giving.

 

i wanted to return the gift, make my gratitude tangible 

but cut fruits were your form of love,

not mine.

 

even now, i’m still not sure how to show it in the way you need. 

words fall silent and actions always go awry.

 

will you wait for me to make you a bowl of cut fruit? 

will you wait?