Lemons

 

I am not a purse girl.

I’m not a shoe girl either, or for that matter even a clothes girl. That’s not to say I walk around unclothed all the time – that would be weird, unless I was part of a nudist colony. Then it would be perfectly normal. But I’m not. I’m just not that into fashion. It requires too much thought and decision making.

I like lemons.

I like the way they look, the way they smell, and the way they taste. Lemons are a very attractive looking fruit. I can’t help but smile when I see one – the shape, the color, the vibrance, and they are easy to spot at the grocery store, which makes shopping for them very efficient. 

I like efficiency.  

Last year, I was gifted a purse from one of my students. It is in the shape of a lemon – well, a lemon wedge, so you can actually see the inside sections of the lemon, as well as the outer peel. It is very whimsical, and I like whimsical. But I thought to myself, I will never use this. 

Because I’m not a purse girl.

But one summer day, I decided that purse was the perfect size to hold the only three things I needed to carry: my phone, my keys, my lip moisturizer. So, I brought it along with me. And everywhere I went, people would comment on it. Everyone LOVED the lemon purse. Summer came and went, and I stored the lemon purse in the basket with all the other barely used purses that I own.

The following summer, I had lunch with one of my friends and co-workers, who had also been gifted the lemon purse. She had hers with her.

“The lemon purse!” I exclaimed. I had forgotten all about it.

When I went home, I dug my lemon purse out of the basket. I hung it on a hook where I hang all the things that I don’t want to forget about, and I started bringing my lemon purse with me. And everywhere I went, people commented on my lemon purse. One lady very passionately stated, “Lemons just make you happy".  She went on to explain that she had decorated her entire laundry room in lemons so that she would feel happier while doing something she was not happy about.

Later that same day, I was using lemons to make a chicken marinade for dinner. First, I zested them, scraping the peel against the long, rectangular shaped grater – that lemony, zesty aroma immediately filling the air. Then, I squeezed them - the fresh yellow juice pouring out of the ripe, fresh, yellow fruit, and through the little holes, as I pressed the two metal handles of the juicer together. I have practiced this activity many, many times, over the years, but for some reason this time was even more satisfying.

It must be that lemon purse, I thought. Lemons do make you happy.

And the chicken was delicious, by the way.