Just Peachy

Yesterday evening, my ever-generous parents took Audrey and Parker to the baseball game. Miles and I had some time to spend together (as if he's not my permanent sidekick to the point that while he's sitting on my hip, I have been known to ask Neal, "where's Miles?" True story.) Anyway, Miles absolutely loves to go outside. If you want to be his friend, take him for a little walk around my parents' beautiful backyard. Find some birds for him to point to or some tree branches for him to touch, and you'll be his friend for life.

Well, we were walking along, enjoying the almost-sunset after we had taken a walk around the neighborhood, when we happened upon the fledgling peach tree in the side yard. The peaches from this tree are delicious, fuzzy just like Miles' head and a lovely shade of, um, peach. There were four beautifully ripe peaches just aching to be picked, so I reached up and picked one.

When was the last time you plucked a piece of fruit off a tree? Well, it has been a long time for me. But I discovered what a lovely sensation it is to tug gently at the little fruit a bit until it lets go right into your hand. I picked a peach, showed it to Miles and that baby looked me right in the eye, in a way that only he can do, with a big open smile and his three little teeth, as if to say, "look mama! you got it!"

He was so pleased that he let out a squeal of delight and reached for the fruit. He kept looking back up at me as I picked the other three, we brought the peaches inside and sliced one up, sprinkled a bit of sugar on top and shared it right then and there. It was one of those mothering moments that I don't think I'll ever forget. Miles and I, out in the breezy evening, picking a peach and being completely content with ourselves.

It was perfect, just like the peach.