Posts Tagged ‘Sharon Cummings’

Life is mostly froth and bubble; two things stand like stone:
Kindness in another’s trouble
Courage in your own. (Adam Lindsay Gordon)

My ten-year-old granddaughter Kate makes froth and bubble from mixed fruit and juice. She’s creating smoothies. She tries different fruit combinations, milk, and the last of the whipped cream in varying amounts, mixed with ice. Our three-ounce paper cup supply dwindles.

She knows how to use a paring knife and cutting board. I watch her as she turns a banana into neat slices with finesse before I let her work alone in my kitchen—within hearing distance.

She is proud of her achievement, as well as the tastes she imagines as the blender whirs. I can’t hear every word she says; my hearing isn’t that good. But her excitement rings clear over the mechanical noise spurts as she considers names for each blend. She wants to make small samples of her variations, ready for neighbors to taste and rate. I smile. At the moment this may not be realistic, but I won’t put parameters on her enthusiasm. Our fruit supply is limited. I’m not worried about over-supply and under-demand.

My favorite is the Sparkle, the only name she has chosen with any sense of finality. It fits both the creator and the drink. She added a lot of pineapple to this concoction. Let the clean-up happen after the job is completed; it doesn’t turn out to be as bad as I expected. Nothing has landed on the floor and the counter remains relatively clean.

My girl continues to be both wise and kind. As we fill-up on pulverized fruit, she talks about one of her friends at school. The girl has a physical handicap, but mental courage. Kate often defends her friend when she is taunted. Kate doesn’t care what the other kids think. She wants to do what is right.

My Sparkle drink won’t come up through the straw anymore. It is too thick. I discard the straw and gulp. Sometimes life situations can’t be taken a little at a time either; they must be faced. Now. Completely. My oldest granddaughter seems to have grasped that reality. She shines.

We share a smile. She doesn’t know what I am thinking, but it doesn’t matter. She knows she is loved, and for now that is all that matters.

We ate all the pineapple, so I had to draw a picture of one. (For a better display of artistry visit http://sharoncummings.wordpress.com/. You will find a real treat for the eyes and spirit there!)





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